


Earthbound

by sidewinder



Category: Brimstone
Genre: Demons, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeke gets in trouble, the devil does something unexpected, and much is revealed while a demon is pursued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthbound

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The following story is written entirely for fun and not for any profit. No attempt is made to supersede or infringe upon the copyrights held by any television or film companies upon which this story is based.

  


## Chapter 1

  


Ezekiel Stone was back in Hell.

Yet he was still on Earth...at least he thought he was. He had a hard time remembering, or thinking clearly beyond his pain. All he knew anymore was pain--physical pain that had become his world, worse than he had ever known.

It was his own fault, too, that much he remembered. He hadn't listened to the warning voice in his head that had told him something was wrong, that he was in danger. Chasing a demon through the dark, deserted back alleys of downtown LA, he had become so focused on the hunt that he hadn't noticed the others closing in on him. He should have paid more attention--years as a cop had taught him that his "bad feelings" and hunches were rarely unfounded. But he'd been too determined not to lose the demon he'd been trailing for days to stop, not when he was so close, so certain he had the bastard right where he wanted him.

And he'd run right into a trap. Cornered the demon in a dead-end alley, oblivious until it was too late of the others there, waiting for him. He had been the one cornered instead, caught off-guard and out-numbered. He could handle one of his own kind at a time, but he'd stood no chance against five...five who had known exactly who he was, and who wanted revenge.

His fault. He should have known better. The pain he now suffered served as a brutal reminder of his mistake, one he would never make again. He doubted he'd ever get the chance.

Voices, pieces of conversation drifted past his ears, but he could barely focus enough to make sense of what was being said. It was just random noise grating on his frazzled nerves, until he forced himself to try to listen, to not drift off completely.

"...had enough of this screwing around. We should have some real fun with him. Cut him up limb by limb, see how long he lasts, demon or not..."

"How many times I gotta tell you, shithead! She wanted him in one piece, not scattered all over the place. Mess him up too bad, don't think she won't mess you up worse. You want that?"

"No, course not. Just gettin' bored. He don't scream any longer, and it's no goddamned fun if he don't scream."

A fresh, tearing pain lanced through his thigh; Zeke grimaced but the scream his tormentor wanted wouldn't come. He just didn't have the energy for it. He didn't open his eyes to see what had been done to him now, what new object one of his captors had decided to stab him with this time. They'd started with knives, always leaving them there, in his flesh, so the wounds couldn't heal. Then one of them had found a bucket of nails. Then they'd become more creative, using whatever scraps of metal or wood they found lying about in the abandoned warehouse they'd claimed as their hideout--and Zeke's prison.

He'd long since stopped trying to fight his way free. All he could do was try to find something to hold onto in his mind, something to keep him detached from the pain as his captors tormented him, testing just how much damage his demon body could take. Apparently their orders to keep him in "one piece" didn't specify what condition that piece was in.

"Just wish she'd get here already. Sick of waitin' around here, even with him to play with."

She.

Ezekiel was conscious enough to know who "she" had to be.

Ash.

From fragments of conversation, Ezekiel had determined that these five were her associates, fellow escapees from Hell whom she'd decided she could trust. These were the ones she intended to use in her plan for revenge against God, Christianity...the entire world if she had her way. Zeke knew little else about them, except for the one he had been chasing until his capture. That one was a Nazi scientist who had conducted horrific experiments on concentration camp prisoners. From the things he had "tested" on Ezekiel, it was clear that the psychopath hadn't lost his interest in exploring the limits of human physical endurance.

One of the others was definitely very old, and very powerful. An ancient practitioner of the black arts, Zeke guessed. His touch burned like acid, strong enough to melt away even demon flesh. The burns healed, but each burn seemed to hurt worse than the last, and take longer to go away. Zeke could feel himself weakening with each passing second, minute, hour, and he had to wonder how much more abuse his body could actually take, demon or not. There had to be a limit. At least, he hoped there was. He didn't want to imagine the alternative.

The air was damp and cold against his bare skin, his clothes long since ripped or burned away. He shivered, sick at the thought that he would actually embrace the warm of the fires of Hell right now. He felt like such a fool, for not taking Ash out when he'd had the chance months before. Twice he'd let her go. He'd thought he had time to deal with her, that she still believe she could turn him to her side. Maybe he'd even hoped, stupidly, that he'd be able to turn her to his. Apparently he'd been wrong, and she'd decided the risk of leaving him free was too great, and had ordered her loyal demons to stop him.

Ezekiel had lost any hope for escape. At least two of them always stood nearby, watching, ready to inflict some new pain on him--to twist deeper one of the blades stuck in his body, or to find something new to do to him. Heavy steel manacles about his feet and upraised wrists restrained him to the wall, though he had long since lost any energy or ability to try to free himself. His body ached too much, and he was too tired. He only wanted it to be finished. If he could, he'd take out his own eyes, claw them out with his fingernails, anything to stop the pain. Not even the devil's tortures had been this cruel. In Hell, Zeke's suffering had mostly been of his own making--a prison of haunting memories, of Rosalyn's tears, his rage, his inability to comfort her and make her pain go away after her rape. He had been trapped in his guilt and anger and despair, but had never completely given up hope that someday he would find a way to free himself from it all...not like he had given up hope now.

He thought of his master and nearly cried out for the devil's mercy, but he knew _that_ was a laugh, a wasted effort. Satan was the last being who would come to his rescue. No, the devil would merely welcome him back to Hell with a smirk and belittle him for failing in his job. He'd just find another, someone better to do his dirty work.

/Ezekiel, can you hear me?/

Zeke was jarred from his drifting thoughts by a familiar voice. He struggled to open his eyes and lift his head, but he couldn't see anyone other than his captors. Was Lucifer here, watching and enjoying his torture? Quite possibly, Ezekiel mused. Either that or Stone was beginning to hallucinate. Not that it mattered, he supposed. He dropped his head again, wincing as the slight movement sent another wave of pain through his abused body.

The voice returned, so close and clear it seemed to be coming from inside his head. /Close your eyes, Ezekiel, and no matter what you hear or feel keep them closed. Are you listening? Do you understand?/

Eyes closed. Right. He could do that. There was nothing he wanted to see in this miserable, cold place, for there was nothing here but the demons who would only torture him more should he catch their attention. He grunted in acknowledgement of the voice's instructions. Hallucination or not, he'd do as he was told.

Seconds barely passed before he heard a terrible crackling sound, like lightning striking ground within the room. A wave of heat stronger than anything he'd felt since his return to Earth seared his skin.

"What the--" he heard one of his captors start to shout, but then the man was drowned out by the shrieks and wailing sounds of his companions, and the screeching, roaring wind that grew up from out of nowhere. Ezekiel wondered what could possibly be happening but he dared not open his eyes to see, not as the screams grew louder, as the hot air seemed to turn to burning flames, licking his skin. The flames tried to get _inside_ him, under his eyelids. They pulled at him, but he summoned the last reserves of his energy to keep his eyes closed, to do as the voice had told him. The screams of his captors began to dissolve away into the roaring wind, which gave one final plaintiff shriek and then...

Silence.

Utter and complete silence.

The air grew still and quickly cooled. Zeke's senses refocused and he picked up just one sound, that of someone nearby, breathing hard. Eventually even that sound softened, and a familiar if strained voice told him, "You may open your eyes now, Mr. Stone."

Cautiously, Ezekiel did as he was instructed. He saw the devil, standing in the middle of the room...and only him. The others were nowhere to be seen.

"What...happened..." Zeke croaked out. Immediately he wished he hadn't tried to speak as the effort set off another wave of incapacitating pain.

The devil walked over to him. "We'll have time for explanations later. Let me get you down first." Lucifer held the keys to the manacles in his hand, and he quickly went to work freeing Zeke's hands and feet. The restraints had been the only things holding him upright, and as soon as they were removed the detective tumbled to the floor. The fall twisted and drove the many blades and shards in his body deeper and he cried out in renewed agony, feeling as if he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

"Shit," he heard the devil curse. "Should have taken care of the bastards' work first. Lie still, Ezekiel. Let me do what I have to." The devil's voice was oddly soothing, as he carefully guided Zeke into a less painful position. Zeke blinked and looked up into familiar gray eyes, which for once looked upon him with what appeared to be honest concern.

"Are you...who I think you are?" Zeke managed to ask. This couldn't be the devil he knew, the one who always seemed to delight in tormenting him. Zeke wondered if instead this was the angel who had come to help him once, or another one of his brothers.

"Don't talk, Ezekiel. Just let me get this over with."

Zeke's questions dissolved quickly under the renewed pain as the devil--or whoever it was-- began tending to his injuries. Some of the implements imbedded in his flesh hurt a lot more coming out than he remembered them hurting going in. By the time the last blade was removed, Zeke was reduced to pleading for the pain to stop, his eyes damp and stinging from sulphurous tears he couldn't control. Too much pain, too much torture these past days, weeks, however long it had been.. "No more, please..." he was whimpering, hurting too much to feel humiliated by his begging.

"No more, Ezekiel. It's over..." Lucifer promised.

Zeke shivered. The floor was ice cold against his bare skin. "Cold..."

"Here." The devil shrugged off his long coat and, as carefully as he could, shifted Ezekiel around and helped him get into the garment. Zeke collapsed against his savior, too tired from the small movement to sit upright on his own.

"Feel so weak...still hurts."

"You'll get your strength back. You just need some time to heal." A warm hand soothed his brow, brushed through his damp hair gently. "It's over now, Ezekiel. All over."

Zeke wanted again to ask the devil what had happened, why he had saved him, why he was being so kind. But he was too tired now to speak. He felt warm in the coat, lying against Lucifer's body, warm and safe. His questions remained for the moment unanswered, as he felt himself losing consciousness, slipping away into the blissful darkness of much needed sleep.

* * *

Ezekiel awoke slowly, unwilling--as he often was--to let go of the pleasant state of unconsciousness and face the world outside. He blinked and flinched against the bright light that assaulted his eyes, pulling the covers over his head to block out the sun's rays for just a few more minutes. He stretched and winced as his body protested against the movement.

God, he felt terrible, sore all over. Groaning, he wondered what he possibly could have done the day before to feel so lousy, especially considering his normally resilient nature. Soon enough he remembered--and shuddered at the memories of days of imprisonment and torture as they came back to him. He wished he could dismiss it all as a nightmare, but he knew it had all been real and that his body was still healing from the abuse it had suffered.

Zeke remembered the devil, too, saving him from the demons, freeing him...and apparently getting him to his room at the hotel. He pulled back the covers, sleepiness fading away quickly as he tried to puzzle out how exactly he had gotten back here.

"It's about time."

Zeke glanced across the room and found the devil sitting in the chair, near the window. "You sleep like the dead, Detective," he added, lips quirking into a lopsided smile.

"Maybe that's because I _am_ dead." Ezekiel sat up and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to clear away the last traces of his grogginess and work some life back into his aching limbs. "How'd I get back here...?" he wondered, his memories ending with his passing out not long after the devil had arrived to rescue him.

"With no little help from me. One of your charming hosts was kind enough to leave a stolen car behind. I drove you here, seeing how you certainly were in no shape to do it yourself. I doubted you would be happy to awaken back where I found you."

"Guess not." Zeke paused. He then noticed, much to his surprise, that he was fully dressed--back in his old worn-out clothes he thought had been destroyed during his imprisonment. For once he was thankful for the strange magic of his demon incarnation. Meeting every day with only thirty- six dollars in his pocket was a drag, but always having his old clothes to wear certainly had its advantages. Even his gun was there, waiting for him on the nightstand next to his bed. Everything was...back to normal. As normal as anything in his "life" was, at least.

Zeke pushed aside his dislike for the devil for a moment, and forced himself to utter two words he never thought he'd be saying to him: "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ezekiel wondered what the devil's help was going to end up costing him. There had to be a catch. He took a better look at his inhuman visitor, and noticed that something seemed...wrong...about his appearance. His suit was wrinkled and dirty, and his shoulder-length hair was a mess. It was a far cry from his normal dapper, impeccable appearance, almost as if he'd been sitting in that chair all night, since dragging Ezekiel back here. But that didn't make any sense...of course, neither did the devil helping him out of a near second-death experience.

Zeke asked the question he had wanted to ask before. "Why did you do it?"

"I've been asking myself that same question all night. And I have decided it is because I am an utter fool, and there is no explanation beyond that." Lucifer paused, turning his gaze toward the open window before continuing, "I could have left you there, and they would have continued playing with you, destroying you bit by bit before eventually sending me what was left of your soul. Or leaving that for Ash to do herself, if she couldn't turn you to her side. Either way, I would have had to find someone else to finish your job.

"I could have done that. I should have, and yet, I didn't. Instead I broke the rules to save your sorry ass, so you'd better damn well be thankful about it."

Ezekiel got up from bed and walked over to the devil, finding his legs still shaky but strong enough to support his weight. Something was definitely wrong. Something didn't feel right about any of this. "You broke the rules...?"

"I used my powers to send those five back to Hell myself," Lucifer clarified.

Zeke frowned, growing more confused. "I thought you couldn't use your powers on Earth, that it wasn't possible. That's why you needed me."

"Oh, it's possible. Just against the rules," the devil corrected. "A violation of the natural order of things, something that takes a tremendous effort to accomplish and then...requires that a suitable price be paid to restore balance."

Lucifer paused, his eyes focused squarely on Ezekiel's now. And then the detective understood--he saw it clearly, as impossible as it was to believe. He had always been able to sense when the devil was nearby, for his aura of energy was completely unique and unmistakable to anyone who'd spent any time in Hell. But now, that aura was...

...Missing?

Gone. Completely. And Ezekiel could come up with only one explanation.

"You're...mortal?"

Lucifer smiled, thinly. "So it appears."

"For how long?"

The devil shook his head and laughed--though it was far from his usual cocky, irritating laughter. Now it had a distinctly nervous edge to it. "I have no idea. For all I know it could be a permanent affliction, punishment for my terribly egregious actions. This isn't exactly something I've done before, Ezekiel, nor something I ever had any _desire_ to do. I can't say I'm the least bit pleased with the situation."

Zeke couldn't say he was either. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with a suddenly mortal devil, sitting in his hotel room and looking...well, rather disoriented, maybe even a touch desperate, and clearly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed Lucifer's normally bright eyes, which were now bloodshot and seeming to have serious difficulty staying open.

Not knowing what else to say--not really ready to deal with this situation yet, to be honest, Zeke suggested, "Maybe you should, uh, try to get some sleep. You look like you could use it..."

"Sleep," Lucifer repeated, pausing to contemplate the suggestion. "Yes, I suppose sleep might be in order. That is what mortals need in order to function, isn't it..." he trailed off, sinking back into the chair with a sigh.

"You...could try the bed. It's a lot more comfortable than that chair," Zeke offered, not believing he was inviting the devil to crash out in his room. In his bed!

Lucifer eyed the bed and answered, "You're probably right." He looked back at the detective. "I do appreciate the...hospitality, Ezekiel."

Zeke shrugged. "Yeah, well, I don't suppose you have anywhere else to go..." With that he turned away and walked over to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face, and steal a few minutes of privacy to try to get his bearings straight.

"This can't be happening," he said to himself, closing the door and leaning against it with a sigh. The devil was suddenly stuck in a mortal body, crashing out in _his_ apartment...and five of Ash's "associates" had just been dispatched. Once she found her friends gone, it wouldn't take her long to guess that Zeke had to be responsible, not if she had been the one to instruct them to capture him in the first place.

And lest he forget, she knew where he lived.

Zeke went to the sink and ran the water. He waited for it to grow warm before splashing it over his face. He looked at himself as the water trickled down his cheeks, and frowned. He didn't look much better than his companion in the other room. He wanted a few days to relax and rest up, to get himself back in full working order again. But unless he wanted to risk facing Ash right now, he knew what he really should do was leave. Get out of Los Angeles, even, to be on the safe side. It was something he knew he'd have to do soon anyway. There were still more than seventy other demons on his "list", and they weren't all going to be hiding out in L.A. Zeke had filed aside news clippings about crimes all across the country that he suspected might be related to his quarry, but until now the devil had usually lead him from one demon to the next with his cryptic clues. As long as the devil was mortal, though, Zeke suspected he was going to have to rely more on his own instincts to get his job done...

For a moment, a darker thought crossed his mind. _If the devil was mortal and had no power over him any longer, why should he bother still doing his dirty work?_ There was no one to stop him from joining the other "rogues" out there. No one, even, who would stop him if he just walked into the other room, put his gun to the devil's head and--

Zeke shook himself out of that line of thought as fast as it had come over him, and he felt a little sick inside that he'd contemplated the idea even for a second. He would not give in to the dark urges that sometimes crept into his mind--the sickening residue of fifteen years in Hell, surrounded by hateful and angry souls all trying to will him to submit, break, admit he was one of them. He wasn't. He'd only made one mistake, and he'd keep doing what he'd been sent back to Earth to do in order to redeem himself.

Besides, Zeke thought to himself, if the devil's mortality was only temporary, he'd probably do best not to piss his boss off right now. He'd surely end up having to pay for it later.

Zeke brushed his teeth, then fixed his hair and made himself remotely presentable to the outside world. He left the bathroom and checked on how his guest was doing. Lucifer had taken his advice and was sprawled out on the bed--fast asleep and snoring lightly, no less. Zeke figured he'd be out of it for at least a few hours, which gave him some time. He left a note saying he'd be back soon, grabbed his beaten-up coat and headed outside to take care of a few things.

  


## Chapter 2

  


After he left the hotel, Zeke first stopped at his favorite nearby diner. He thought one of his obscenely greasy breakfast feasts would put him in a better mood, yet he found himself pushing a half-eaten omelet distractedly around his plate, for once unable to work up his usual appetite. He simply had too much on his mind to concentrate on the food, and it failed to provide him with any kind of comfort.

He didn't like the idea of having to leave Los Angeles, even if he was fairly certain it was necessary. He'd sworn to the devil he'd get Ash "next time", but he wasn't quite ready for that next time just yet. As much as he tried to put what had happened to him out of his mind, it was leaving him queasy, and shaking. He couldn't afford the shakes--not when dealing with any of Hell's escapees, and especially not with Ash.

But he had friends here in L.A., people who he could talk to and trust, who he hated to leave behind: Max, Farther Horn...

Rosalyn was here, too. He certainly never forgot that. He kept his distance from her these days, not wanting to put her in danger or risk her finding out about him. Still, simply knowing she wasn't far away was something that helped him get through each day.

Nevertheless, what had to be done, had to be done. He'd known he'd have to get out on the road to hunt the remaining demons some time; recent events were merely making that more of an immediate necessity. Particularly with Lucifer stuck in a mortal body--if Ash were to find the devil in this state, the detective doubted she would offer him anything close to Zeke's kindness.

Stone rested his chin on his hands and frowned. Why had the devil saved him in the first place? That still made no sense to him. His mind kept coming back to that one question, to which he hadn't _really_ received a satisfactory answer. The devil had never done anything to help Zeke out of a tight spot before--why had he done it _this_ time, if he'd known he'd face some form of retribution for his actions?

"He did it because he loves you, Ezekiel. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

Zeke blinked in surprise, both at the words he'd heard and at the man who had appeared out of nowhere to sit down across from him. Dressed in paint-stained white jeans and sweater, a handkerchief tied around his neck, the angel was unmistakable thanks to his attire and all-too- familiar visage. Zeke found it extremely disconcerting to see a gentle smile on _that_ face, one that looked exactly like the devil's. It seemed...wholly unnatural and just plain _wrong_ , somehow.

"What did you say?" Zeke asked, wanting to be certain he'd heard his companion's words correctly.

"He loves you," the angel repeated. "That's why he saved you. He felt your suffering and anguish and he couldn't let it continue, no matter what the consequences."

Zeke shook his head and started laughing. "That's crazy. He gets his kicks from suffering and anguish...why should it ever bother him?" He kept laughing as he thought about the possibility, and it struck him as nothing less than absurd. "No, I don't believe you."

"You have to believe me!" the angel insisted. "He's my brother. I know him. He tries to act as if he has no heart, Ezekiel, no ability to love, but that's not true. What other motive could there _be_ for throwing away everything he had to stop your pain and save you, except for love?"

Zeke pondered that question for a minute as the waitress came over to refill his coffee and ask the angel what he wanted. "The Healthy Heart Special, please," he ordered with a pleasant smile.

The curly-haired Hispanic woman returned his smile and said, "Now that's something Zeke here never orders...about the only thing on the menu he avoids like the plague."

"My heart's the least of my worries," Zeke answered her, before she shrugged and walked off to the kitchen.

The former detective had to admit to himself that the angel's argument made _some_ sense, if only because he couldn't think of a better explanation for what had happened. That didn't mean he believed it yet. "So, he loves me--if what you're saying is true. What I want to know is, how long is he going to be like this?"

"I can't say. Not that I can't say because I'm not allowed to...I can't say because I don't know. Honestly. I'm not one of the main guys-- the arch-angles, you know--they're the only ones privileged to all that information," the angel told him with an apologetic look. "I could try to ask around but I don't know if they'd tell me."

"Bureaucracy, even in Heaven?" Zeke asked.

"Oh, please!" The angel rolled his eyes, gave him a look of long-suffering. "The 'Big Wings'-- that's what we call them--they can have such an attitude sometimes! The stories I could tell you, Ezekiel... Almost enough to make one of us lowly old guardian angels feel like switching teams, every now and then," he finished in a conspiratorial whisper.

Zeke sat back and studied his companion. "Guardian angel. So, are you, like, _my_ guardian angel?"

"You haven't figured that out until now?"

The detective shrugged. "You gotta admit, you didn't do a very good job of guarding me if I ended up in Hell." He immediately regretted his crack as he saw his companion's suddenly crestfallen expression. "Sorry."

"No, no, that's quite all right, Ezekiel. We try, you know, but we can't save everyone. And mortals have to be willing to _listen_ , before they can hear us and let us help. That doesn't make it any easier when we lose someone, especially such a close call like you. That's why it's so important to me that you don't fail, now that you've got a second chance. We _both_ have a second chance!" he enthused.

"The stakes are a little higher for me, though, aren't they?" Zeke observed.

The angel had no immediate answer beyond a sympathetic look. They fell silent until the waitress came back, bringing the angel his breakfast: low-fat yogurt and fruit salad, and a glass of orange juice. While he dove into his meal enthusiastically, Zeke sat thinking, still trying to wrap his brain around the concept that the devil loved him. "So you don't have any idea how long he's going to be stuck on Earth...a day, a month...forever?" Zeke tried asking again, even though it seemed as if his companion was not going to be able to answer him.

The angel shook his head, swallowed a spoonful of yogurt and said, "No, I'm sorry, I really don't. All I can say is we're _never_ supposed to directly interfere with events taking place on Earth. It's the same rules whether it's just a guardian angel like myself, or someone like, well, _him_."

"Has it happened before? It must have, right?"

"Yes, but the punishment is always different. Determined by, you know..." The angel glanced upward. "I just don't know how He's going to judge this one."

Zeke sighed and, giving up on that line of questioning, moved on to more practical matters. "So what am I supposed to do with him? With this entire...situation."

"Well, for starters, I might suggest you consider a change of address. Those five were working with--"

"Ash, I know. I figured out that much. I think I'm getting a little too well-known in this area anyway. And I don't exactly feel up to dealing with her face-to-face again right now."

The angel nodded. "Wait until you're stronger. It would do you good to lay low for a while, find somewhere safer...particularly with my brother to protect."

Zeke raised an eyebrow at his companion. He'd rather suspected this was coming, but he still didn't like the idea. "So that's now officially part of my job description? To be the devil's keeper?"

"He needs someone right now, and you're the only one for the job, I'm afraid." The angel placed a hand lightly on Stone's arm, and fixed him with gently pleading eyes. "Fallen or not, he is my brother, Ezekiel. Look after him as a favor for me, if for no other reason. He doesn't even have _your_ strength now, and if the escaped demons were to find him..."

"I get the idea..." Zeke cut him off. He hated this. He _really_ hated this, but what was he going to say? "All right. I'll look after him-- if he lets me."

"Believe me, he wants your help--he just doesn't know how to ask for it. Yet." The angel smiled at him, pulled his hand away after a light squeeze. Zeke looked away as he reached for his cup of lukewarm coffee and by the time he turned back, his visitor was gone.

Zeke shook his head. Every time he thought he'd heard it all today, something new was dropped in his lap. The devil was mortal. The devil loved him. The devil needed his protection. That, and he still had seventy-eight demons to catch and send back to Hell...and speaking of Hell, who was running things there with the Prince of Darkness missing? Someone better be watching the gates, Zeke thought to himself, otherwise there could be a whole new flood of demons breaking free and running amok on Earth.

No, this was not good. Not good at all.

* * *

Zeke spent some time shopping after giving up on breakfast. He hit the stores to see what groceries and supplies he could get, mostly for his "guest", on the twenty-five dollars he had left for the day. Unlike Zeke, the mortal devil probably would need a fresh change of clothes or two. The former detective hoped Lucifer wouldn't mind having to make do with a selection of attire from the Salvation Army.

Max was on shift at the desk when he got back to the hotel late that afternoon. Her eyes went wide with surprise and she saw him enter. "Stone!" she shouted. "You're on your feet?! I'm amazed!"

"Hi, Max," he greeted her nonchalantly as she rushed over to him.

"Don't you just 'Hi Max' me! What happened to you? You go missin' for days, and then end up gettin' dragged back here by that friend of yours, lookin' way messed up and knocked out cold. I was gonna call for an ambulance..." she paused and frowned. "Somehow he convinced me not to. But still, damn, you gave me a scare!"

"Well, as you can see I'm fine now."

"'You're fine.' You ain't fine, Stone. No one has weirder shit happen to him than you." Her expression changed and with a grin she added, "But that's okay, you keep life interestin' around here. I don't know what we'd do for entertainment without you."

"Yeah, ah, about that..." Zeke began, putting his shopping bags down on the front desk for a moment. "I'm sorry, Max, but I'm moving out. Probably by tonight."

"What?!" Max's grin disappeared quickly. "You're leaving?!"

"I have to. I need to take care of some business out of town. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me."

"You're in some kind of serious trouble, aren't you?" she asked, looking genuinely worried now.

Zeke put a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. "Nothing I can't handle," he said, hoping that was really the case.

"Dammit, Stone, this sucks. I'm gonna miss you." She grabbed him for hug that would have knocked the wind out of him, if that had been possible.

"I'll miss you, too, Max. But I'll be back sometime," he promised, and he meant it. As long as Rosalyn was still in Los Angeles, he'd be back. However long it would take, he'd come back for her.

As long as one of the other demons didn't send him back to Hell first.

  


## Chapter 3

  


Zeke unlocked and opened the door to his room, trying to be quiet as he did so in case his guest hadn't woken up yet. A quick glance toward the bed confirmed Lucifer was still there, and still asleep.

The sight was enough to give Ezekiel a bad case of the creeps. "Too damn weird," he muttered to himself. That wasn't just anyone sleeping in his bed--that was _the devil._ Except the devil wasn't really "the devil" any longer, was he? He was nothing more than another mortal human being...

 _And all because he loves me?_ Zeke thought, frowning as he tried to give the rather unbelievable idea more consideration.

He put down his bag of food, walked toward the bed and looked over the sleeping man more closely. With his thin build and drawn features, Lucifer didn't look very intimidating--at least not now while he lay asleep, stripped of his inhuman powers. It had to be pretty traumatic, Zeke supposed, to go from being one of the most powerful entities in all of Creation to just another human mortal. For a moment Zeke actually felt _sorry_ for the devil--but then he vividly remembered the sneering delight Lucifer took in others' suffering and his sympathy evaporated quickly. Maybe a little dose of mortality might do the devil some good, give him a different perspective on the souls he played with as if they were nothing more than his toys.

Stone remembered, not that long ago, accusing Lucifer of having loved Ash. The devil had denied it, but only after a too-long pause that had left Zeke wondering if maybe he hadn't been on target with his suspicions. If so, that meant the devil _did_ know how to feel love...

Still, Zeke wasn't sure he _liked_ the idea of being the object of Satan's affection. Besides giving the detective a bad case of the creeps, that would just add a whole new layer of complication to his life--or death, to be more accurate--that he really didn't need right now.

Zeke walked back to the kitchen to sort through the groceries and other items he'd bought during his shopping excursion. He opened the refrigerator to grab a beer for himself, then closed the door, apparently a little too loudly. He heard a gasp and turned to see the devil wide awake, sitting up on bed and looking extremely disoriented.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Zeke apologized.

"What? Oh... No, I'm glad you did. That was entirely too unsettling," the devil remarked, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.

"What was?"

"Sleeping. I've never done that before. I don't like it, being completely oblivious to what could be going on all around you."

"You'll get used to it." Beer in hand, Zeke brought over the food he'd bought for his guest--a Whopper and large fries. "I thought you might be hungry."

Lucifer took the bag and eyed the contents warily. "I suppose I am. You know, it's curious, how these unpleasant physical conditions are so different when experienced firsthand-- exhaustion, for one. Hunger. Thirst." He paused and frowned. "The most pressing need to...urinate?"

"That way." Zeke pointed toward the bathroom.

The detective sat down in the chair by the window and waited while the devil...relieved himself in the small bathroom. Lucifer reappeared several minutes later with a thoroughly disgusted look on his face. He looked at his food and mused, "I'm don't think I'm hungry any longer."

Zeke had to suppress a grin. "You know," he observed, "maybe this is something that should have happened to you a long time ago--get a taste of what life's like for us 'mere mortals'. Might be just the thing to humble that big fat ego of yours."

"Spare me your amateur psychological analysis, Mr. Stone. I'm not in the mood for it." The devil eyed the bag of food again. Soon enough hunger won out over disgust, and he started in on the greasy fries.

After giving him a few minutes' peace to eat, Zeke began casually, "I ran into one of your brothers down at the coffeeshop." At Lucifer's raised eyebrows he elaborated, "You know, looks like you, except he dresses in white and is actually _nice_ to me..."

"Yes, yes, I know who you mean. What did he have to say?"

Zeke wasn't ready to talk about _everything_ the angel had said yet, so he skipped ahead to the most immediately important point of discussion. "He said Los Angeles might not be the best place for either of us right now. Which is the same thing I've been thinking since this morning." Zeke paused to take a sip of his beer. "Those five who had me were working with Ash, and I don't want to be around when she finds they've been summarily dispatched back to Hell. Especially when I'm stuck with you here to keep an eye on."

"I think I can take care of myself, thank you," the devil remarked sharply.

"Can you?" Zeke countered. "Then why are you hanging around here? I think it's because you don't know a damn thing about surviving without your powers, and you know you need me to protect you."

"Couldn't it be that I simply _delight_ in your charming company?"

"I don't know, could it?"

Lucifer seemed momentarily flustered by Stone's question, but then he shrugged it off. "All right. I...suppose I could use your help, Ezekiel," he admitted, not looking happy at all to have to say as much.

"Isn't that always the case..." Zeke muttered.

Under the devil's glare he fell silent. Lucifer continued, "This mortality business is rather confusing, and I could use the assistance of someone with more experience in the matter."

"Considering you got yourself in this situation because of me, I suppose I owe you that much."

"Yes, you do. And more, but we can account for that later. And believe me, we will." The devil scrunched up the paper bag with the remnants of his meal and tossed it toward the trashcan. He missed. With a frown, he said, "A relocation, did you suggest?" Zeke nodded. "Indeed. I think that might not be the worst idea..."

* * *

Several hours stuck on the highway with the devil as his only companion, and Ezekiel beginning to wonder if being sent back to Hell wouldn't have been better than his current fate. A few minutes of Satan's "company" every two or three days had always been more than sufficient. If the devil loved him, he certainly had an incredibly annoying way of showing it.

"It must be difficult for you to leave Los Angeles, Ezekiel, after traveling all the way across the country just to be near your widow, Rosalyn."

"It's what I have to do."

"Yes. But it isn't easy, is it? Leaving behind the woman you love like that..." The devil sighed wistfully. "Perhaps it's for the best-- after all, she finally seemed to be getting over _you._ Fifteen years...I should think it's about time for her to start dating again, don't you, detective? Way _past_ time, if you ask me."

"I didn't."

"Though hopefully next time she'll have better taste than to pick a shape-shifting pagan priestess for a boyfriend..."

"Can we not talk about Rosalyn?"

"I'm merely making conversation."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't," Zeke said.

"Well pardon me for trying to be sociable."

"Your idea of being sociable seems to consist of nothing but finding ways to irritate me."

"Force of habit. So what would like to talk about then, Ezekiel? I'm open to suggestions."

Zeke gritted his teeth. He had no desire to talk about _anything_ with the devil, quite honestly. He settled on a matter of practical interest. "Okay, how about we discuss how I'm going to cover _both_ of our living expenses on thirty-six dollars and twenty-seven cents a day? It's been hard enough taking care of myself on that kind of budget."

"It's not as if you actually have _living_ expenses. You're _dead_ , remember? _I'm_ the only one of us who is living."

"Don't temp me to even the score," Zeke threatened. "Living or not, we'll need to find somewhere to stay, and that takes money."

"You're resourceful. I'm sure you'll figure out something."

"You could always get a job, that would bring in some more money."

"Excuse me?!" the devil choked.

Ezekiel shrugged. "If I'm going to be stuck with you hanging around, you might as well make yourself useful."

Zeke glanced over at the devil and caught him scowling in disgust. "A job. I _don't_ think so. I'm suffering enough indignity as it is right now."

"Not my fault," Zeke reminded him. "You're the one who decided to do something nice for me, for once."

"And yes, look where it got me. Don't think I'll be making that mistake again."

With that Lucifer settled in to a sulky silence, much to Ezekiel's relief. It had been a while since he'd been behind the wheel of a car and navigating the California highways with the devil irritating him all the way was not turning into a fun experience.

They were headed north to San Francisco, in the car Lucifer had "acquired" the night he'd rescued Zeke from the five demons. The detective had chosen that city based on recent news reports of several gruesome murders, all of priests in the Bay Area. Something about the crimes had set him off, led him to think one of his remaining quarry was likely responsible. When he'd suggested as much to the devil, he'd gotten no clear confirmation of his suspicions- -but no denial of them either. It was as good a lead as any he had at the moment, and it would take him far enough away from LA to hopefully keep Ash out of his hair.

Zeke had thought he should tell Father Horn where he was headed, though he also feared bringing the man too deep into his business. The blind priest had already helped Zeke out of a few tight spots; Zeke didn't want to risk Horn's life by leaving too much of a trail to connect them. But he'd miss having someone to confide in, someone who knew who he was and why he was here. When he got settled in somewhere, Zeke decided, he'd give the priest a call, let him know he was all right. Whether he'd tell the priest he'd suddenly become the devil's guardian on Earth...well, perhaps that was one detail he'd leave out for now.

After close to an hour of blissful silence, Lucifer felt the need to announce, "I'm not enjoying this at all, you know."

"What?"

"Being mortal, of course. Less than a day and I'm sick of it."

 _Less than a day and I'm sick of you,_ Zeke thought, but he bit his tongue before letting the words slip out.

"I don't suppose my dear brother had anything to say about how long I'm going to be stuck like this."

"He said he didn't have a clue."

"He never did, that idiot." The devil sighed, and fell silent for a while again. "It's all so very...quiet. Isolated. Not knowing what you're thinking...what _anyone_ is thinking...it's very disconcerting."

"Maybe to you, but I'm rather happy to keep my thoughts to myself."

"Of course you are. No one likes the idea of having their deepest, darkest secrets exposed...but that's what makes it so much fun! The key to temptation lies in offering someone what they never thought they could have, what they'd never dream of asking for...like you, thinking you could have your life back with Rosalyn again. Look at where it's lead you."

"You really are sick."

"Why thank you, Ezekiel. I try, you know."

Zeke shook his head. The devil's constant company was definitely a new form of torment he did _not_ need. He turned on the radio and hoped his companion would take the hint and just shut up for the rest of the drive. Zeke found a classic rock station and turned up the volume as one of his favorite Pink Floyd songs came on. As he listened, he found the lyrics taking on a whole new meaning to him since the last time he'd heard the tune, over fifteen years ago...

 _So...so you think you can tell_

 _Heaven from Hell_

 _Blue skies from pain_

 _Can you tell a green field_

 _From a cold steel rail_

 _A smile from a veil_

 _Do you think you can tell?_

Ros had always liked this song, too, he remembered...she'd never quite managed to get into the old blues he'd had liked so much, but Floyd was one band she'd loved almost as much as he did. He wondered if she still ever listened to their old records, thought of him the way this song made him think of her... _How I wish_

 _How I wish you were here_

 _We're just two lost souls_

 _Swimmin' in a fishbowl_

 _Year after year_

 _Running over the same old ground_

 _What have we found?_

 _The same old fears..._

 _Wish you were here._

"Do you have to listen to this noise?" the devil groused, pulling Zeke out of his memories.

"Just _shut up_ or I'm gonna put the radio on a Christian music station instead," Zeke growled at him.

Lucifer fell silent and didn't say another word for the rest of the trip.

  


## Chapter 4

  


It was sometime past midnight, into the bleak early morning hours, when they finally made it to San Francisco. Zeke wasn't at all familiar with the city, so he drove around without any real direction or plan until he ended up in an industrial area that showed no signs of life beyond a few street bums. He felt tired from the long drive, even though he knew the sense of exhaustion was all in his head. He had no physical need for sleep, yet he found it hard to lose the mindset that a human being required a certain amount of rest every day.

But that was the thing he had to keep reminding himself--he wasn't human. He was a demon. He was a dead man imitating the living.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was quite human at the moment and had been sound asleep for hours. He didn't have the money left to try to find a flophouse for the rest of the night, so instead Zeke chose a place that looked reasonably safe and quiet to park for a few hours. He shut off the engine and got out of the car to walk around and stretch, and to check out his immediate surroundings. The temperature was noticeably cooler here than in Los Angeles and a dampness clung to the air, suggesting a recent or impending rain.

He felt as disoriented as he had after first moving to Los Angeles from New York; it made him uncomfortable not knowing the streets, the good areas and the dangerous ones, the general "feel" of a city. And already he felt an ache inside at the distance now separating him from Rosalyn...he sighed and tried to shake off that thought. The less he dwelled on her, the better.

He walked back to the car, sat down inside and got out the stack of newspapers he'd picked up at a gas station along the way. He'd hoped they might give him some leads about the recent crimes in the area he suspected were the handiwork of one of the one-thirteen: victims' backgrounds, names of investigating officers, bizarre details, anything that might be useful to him.

It was, at least, a way to keep his thoughts occupied with things other than Rosalyn. And Ash. And of course his newly-constant companion, Lucifer. When he'd exhausted three papers front to back and taken a few notes, Zeke put the rest away and decided he would try to catch a little rest at last. He eased the seat back, and turned to look at the sleeping man beside him, studying him in his unguarded state.

"It really is pathetic, isn't it?" a familiar voice queried from the back of the car.

Zeke sat up and spun around in alarm, eyes widening in surprise at the sight that greeted him. The voice belonged to someone who, except for the way he wore his hair tied back from his face in a tight ponytail instead of loose, looked exactly like the devil. There was no mistaking him for Zeke's guardian angel, either. This one's dark suit, sneering smile and sulfurous scent clearly marked him as one of the fallen.

"The ruler of Hell reduced to sleeping in a stolen car like a common bum. How the mighty have truly fallen this time," the angel said, disgust evident on his face as he looked at Lucifer.

"Who are you?"

"Just someone who believed in him, once." The angel nodded toward Lucifer. "I was his second in command, which of course now leaves _me_ in charge of things down under during his...leave of absence." He snorted and added, "And not a moment too soon. Look at him. He's grown soft. Vulnerable. If I'd been in charge of things before now, those one hundred and thirteen would never have escaped in the first place."

"So I take it you're my new employer?" Ezekiel asked.

"Bright fellow. At least my brother seems to have done _one_ thing right, in choosing you to clean up his mess." There was a coldness in this one's eyes that Zeke did not like at all. The angel leaned forward, grasped Zeke's shoulder tightly, and continued in a harsh tone, "But don't think I harbor any ridiculous affections or love for you. You'll get your job done and I won't tolerate any insubordination...nor will I be around to bail your ass out of trouble if you fuck things up again. I might look like him to your eyes, but I'm _not_. Don't ever forget that. I'll honor the promise he made you, should you succeed in bringing back the remaining escaped souls...but if you fail, I'll just find another to finish the job. Is that clear?"

"Yeah. Perfectly."

"Good." The angel released his grip and clapped Zeke on the shoulder. "I'm so glad that we understand each other."

"What about him?" Ezekiel asked.

"What about him?" his question was echoed. "He's not my problem, Mr. Stone. Nor, quite frankly, is he yours. You have enough to worry yourself over with...what is it now?...seventy-eight more demons to capture? And I've got enough to do trying to get things back under control back home." The new ruler of Hell got out of the car, but paused by Zeke's open window. "It's all about priorities, Detective. Make sure you don't forget what your priorities are. I really don't want to be bothered having to find a replacement for you, but I will if I find your work...unsatisfactory."

With a curt wave good-bye, the figure turned and walked off, dissolving from sight into the darkness of the deserted streets.

Zeke sighed, and sunk wearily back into his seat.

Now he had to worry about not pissing off his new boss _and_ his old one. Life just kept getting more interesting--and aggravating--by the minute.

He eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, demons real and imagined chasing him through his dreams.

* * *

The next morning over a greasy breakfast and too-strong coffee, Ezekiel told Lucifer about his late-night visitor.

"Well, at least I know now that things are in good hands in my absence," the devil remarked casually.

"Good hands? He more or less said he didn't care what happened to you--in fact I got the impression he'd actually be pleased if you ended up dead and out of his way."

"Precisely! He was always an opportunistic bastard who didn't care what it took to be on top. I can't think of a better man for the job--except for myself, of course."

"So it doesn't bother you that he said you'd gone soft."

"Of course it does. That's the point. He knows just the right things to say to piss someone off. Even me." Lucifer took a sip on his coffee and added, "He's wrong, of course."

"Is he? I was thinking maybe he was right," Zeke said. "After all, I couldn't see this guy doing what you did to save me the other night. The devil being compassionate? That's definitely unheard of."

Lucifer said nothing, so Zeke continued, "Why _did_ you do it, really? I mean, you're always telling me how you could just find someone else to do my job. I fucked up; I let those guys capture me. Why didn't you let them send me back to Hell?"

"An admitted momentary lapse of judgement, as I've already said."

"It's gotta be more than that," Zeke pressed. "You don't do 'nice' without a reason, and you knew it would get you in some serious trouble."

"Are you going to eat that bacon, or may I, before it gets cold?"

"Your brother told me why you did it."

"Which one?"

"Both of them, actually. I just don't know if I can believe what they told me, even though they basically said the same thing."

"Your instinct for disbelief is a good one. I wouldn't put any merit on anything either of them said."

"They said that you were in love with me." There. He'd said it. Might as well get it out in the open. Zeke watched for even a flicker, a hint of shock or surprise, or indignant denial.

Lucifer just raised an eyebrow at him and responded calmly, "As I _said_ , I wouldn't believe anything my brothers might have told you."

"So you're denying it?"

"You really believe I could be in _love_ with you?" The devil burst into laughter. "Please, Ezekiel. I'm flattered, I suppose, that you could imagine yourself as the object of my heart's desire. But I told you, I haven't loved anyone--"

"--since God. I remember. And I didn't believe you then, and I still don't."

Lucifer sighed impatiently and tossed his napkin on top of the congealed remains of his omelet. "Thank you, Mr. Stone, for giving me my first taste of indigestion."

"Only returning the favor of so many meals of mine _you_ ruined." Zeke waved over the waitress and asked for the check. He decided it was time to change the topic to more pressing matters. "Anyway. I was looking through the local papers last night, and another priest was attacked the night before. Some guy grabbed him on the street and tried to pull him into a van parked in an alley. This one got away, though--the assailant got scared when someone spotted what was going on and started shouting for help. The priest...one Father Stanton," Zeke read off his notepad, "couldn't provide the police with a very good description of his attacker. But they're certain this case is related to the murders of the other priests. I want to talk to this guy myself. Find out if there's anything important that didn't get printed in the papers--maybe that he felt he couldn't even report to the police."

"A wise plan," Satan agreed.

"You're not going to give me any leads here, any clues as to which one it is--if it even _is_ one of them?" Stone asked.

"Quite honestly, Detective, I don't really have a clue. Considering we're talking about escapees from _Hell_ I should think any number of them could be on a vendetta against those who claim to represent God on this Earth. I didn't have the time to follow them all around, keeping tabs on each one's every moment while they ran amok on Earth."

"Okay. But which ones might have had something against the church--priests in particular-- _before_ their deaths?"

The devil looked pensive for a moment, then shrugged. "Six or seven at least, off the top of my head. It _is_ one of the escapees, of that I'm certain. Otherwise my brother would have discouraged you from this investigation last night. Which one it is, perhaps this Father Stanton can help us determine."

Zeke nodded. "Then let's get going."

  


## Chapter 5

  


Zeke stopped outside the rector's office door and turned to his companion. "Let me do the talking, all right?"

"I have no intentions of interfering, Detective," Lucifer assured him. "I will merely observe. In fact, I should think this will be rather illuminating--having the chance to follow you through the steps of one of your investigations first-hand."

"Uh huh."

"I'll save any critical comments for later."

Ezekiel was going to tell the devil just where he could stick those critical comments, but he held his tongue. They were in a church, after all, and this wasn't the place to start bickering--especially not with the devil. Zeke had been hesitant enough about bringing him along for this interview in the first place. It felt _wrong_ for the devil to be here, and wrong to make a priest who'd already suffered enough recently have to deal with the devil strolling into his office.

Oh well, Zeke sighed to himself. What Father Stanton didn't know hopefully couldn't hurt him.

He turned back around and knocked lightly on the door. It opened a few seconds later to reveal a bespectacled gray-haired man who looked to be in his sixties. Tall and thin, he regarded his visitors with cautious friendliness.

"Good morning. May I help you, gentlemen?"

"Are you Father Stanton?"

"Yes."

Ezekiel pulled out his NYPD badge and flashed it in his customary too-quick-to-be-closely-inspected manner. "I'm Detective Stone, this is my partner...Detective Gonner. We'd like to talk to you about the attack the other night."

"I see. Well, I did make my statement to the police already. I'm not sure there's anything else I can tell you."

"My partner and I were only assigned to handle the investigation this morning. We were hoping we could hear about what happened directly from you...just in case you might remember any details now that you'd left out before, anything that might not have seemed important..." Zeke trailed off, hoping the priest would buy his story. Most of the time people did; he had learned during his years as a cop how easy it was to get a lot of people to talk with just a pleasant smile, a confident manner, and a simple story.

The priest gave them both a more considered once-over, then nodded his head. "Very well. Come in, and have a seat. Certainly I want to help your investigation in any way I can. It's a tragedy, a terrible tragedy, about those other three men who were killed. I am truly fortunate to be alive, if this was the same individual responsible for their deaths who tried to abduct me."

"We have every reason to believe it is," Zeke assured him. The other three priests hadn't merely been killed. Their bodies--each one returned, mysteriously, to their church about a week after their disappearance--had shown signs of severe and brutal torture, even mutilation. In all cases a slit throat had been the final cause of death. All three, like Father Stanton, had been Caucasian men of at least middle age. The first murder had occurred not long after the escape of the 113 from Hell, the last one only three weeks ago.

"Did you know any of the murder victims personally?" Zeke asked.

"I'd known Father Gartner, in passing, but not the others."

So much for an obvious direct link between the victims, Zeke thought. It had been worth a shot. "And you said you didn't get a good look at your assailant...nothing's come back to you about him since you made your statement?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He came up behind me; I never saw his face. I only saw him from behind when he was running away, and it was dark outside... He had short light-brown hair, average build, dark clothes...that's really all I can remember."

"Could you just briefly go through what happened again? How you remember it."

"Of course. It was a little past nine, in the evening. I'd just stepped out of Rosie's--the diner over on 5th Street, around the corner?" Zeke nodded. He'd seen the place, made a mental note to himself that they might want to go inside and see if anyone remembered any unusual customers lately. "A nice place, nice people. Rosie makes the best apple pie in the city, and, well, I'd had a craving for it." Stanton smiled. "Anyway, I was walking back here, to the church to finish up some business before turning in for the night.

"I was walking past the laundromat, just down the street, when it happened. I didn't hear or see anything, or anyone--that time of night there isn't many people on these streets. All I knew was suddenly this man had me by the throat, and he told me he would kill me right there on the street if I fought him or shouted for help."

"He had a knife, you said?" Zeke prompted, remembering what details had been given in the papers.

"Yes, he held a knife to my throat." Stanton rubbed his neck self-consciously. There was a small cut, Zeke noticed, where apparently the blade had been pressed close enough to break skin.

"Was there anything about the knife that you remember? Anything...unusual or distinctive about it?" A number of Ezekiel's previous quarry had employed very unique weaponry; details about what this attacker had used might help him pinpoint who this one was.

"Distinctive?" The priest frowned and sat back, looking thoughtful. "Not that I recall. I didn't honestly see much besides the glint of metal. It was certainly larger than a pocketknife, but that's about all I could tell you."

"That's all right. So...he told you not to fight him... What else did he say?"

"Nothing...nothing much, that I can recall. He was just rambling on, cursing, telling me not to fight him while he tried to lead me away into the alley next to the laundromat." The police had found a van parked in the alley, which according to the papers they'd assumed was the assailant's. Stolen, of course, therefore it hadn't provided any good leads on the attacker's identity.

"What about his voice," Zeke tried. "Did the man have any kind of accent? Foreign, or just from another part of the country..."

"Why, no... No, none that I was able to identify. And I can remember his voice quite clearly, if nothing else." The priest got a far-away look in his eyes and said, "I doubt I will forget the sound of his voice for a very long time."

"And it was a young girl, just walking down the street, who ended up interrupting the assault?" Zeke asked.

"Yes, yes, Cara. She's the daughter of the woman who operates the laundry. She was looking for Bogey--a stray cat who comes by the laundry most evenings to sleep. She saw what was going on and started screaming, calling for her mother. The man seemed to panic; he pushed me down onto the ground, and by the time I got back to my feet he was gone."

The girl had been the one who'd managed to supply a very basic description of the attacker, apparently, but she was only eight and the details she'd managed to convey to the police were vague at best.

Zeke ran through a few more routine questions, but it was mostly all a regurgitation of what he'd read in the papers, nothing new, nothing of much use to him. He was about to thank the priest for his time and leave when Lucifer suddenly spoke up.

"I have a feeling you haven't told us the entire story, Father. What is it you're hiding?"

Zeke glared at him. Hadn't he told Lucifer to keep his mouth shut?

Father Stanton looked taken aback. "I...I don't know what you mean, Officer."

"Oh, I think you do," Lucifer disagreed. "I think you saw something, or felt something...or perhaps _heard_ something that disturbed you so much, you decided it had to simply be your imagination."

Father Stanton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I...well, I tried to tell the other officers about that. They wouldn't listen; they told me it was probably just the stress of the attack making me...hear things. Things that weren't there..." He gave a small, nervous laugh. "The more I thought about it afterwards, the more I became certain they were probably right."

"Maybe, maybe not," Zeke said. "Why don't you tell us."

The priest looked back and forth between them, and after a moment sighed and said, "Voices. I heard...children's voices."

"When?" Zeke asked.

"As he was trying to lead me away. Whispering, crying voices. All around him, around us. Telling him to stop. Asking him what he was doing, begging him to stop. So many of them...but there was no one there! No one at all..." Stanton trailed off. Zeke noticed his hands were shaking now.

Zeke glanced at Lucifer and caught the devil's smug grin. It was time to leave Father Stanton alone and find out what the devil knew that _he_ was keeping a secret. "Thank you for your time, Father. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch."

Stanton managed to compose himself enough to see them to the door and wish them the best with their investigation. Once they were outside, Stone turned to Lucifer and said, "So what was that about? The voices. I thought you said you didn't know which one of these demons was responsible for the attacks."

"I didn't, but I had a few ideas. I took a guess. I could tell Father Stanton was leaving something out." The devil shrugged under Zeke's questioning gaze. "I may have lost my powers, but I haven't lost thousands of years of experience observing mankind."

"The voices?"

"Part of the unique punishment I devised for our little lost soul," the devil explained, but he said no more than that as they walked down the steps and onto the street.

Zeke stepped in front of him and pressed, "So? Come on, if you know who it is, how about you let me in on it?"

"I'm not here to spoon-feed you information, Ezekiel. Hunting down the demons is _your_ job, not mine."

"It's not your job to do anything right now, is it?" Zeke snapped. He turned away and took off down the street toward the laundromat, wanting to take a look at the alley, check for any clues the police might have missed.

Wanting to get away from the devil.

Lucifer caught up with him, and with a snappish tone to match the detective's said, "I can't say that I care for this new attitude you're developing, Mr. Stone."

"Yeah? Well I've never cared for yours, so I guess that makes us even." He'd reached the alley now, and he knelt down low to the ground, looking for...something. Anything. Anything the demon might have dropped or left behind when he'd fled. Something as simple as a coat button had proven to be a vital clue in the past, and he didn't want to miss such a lead this time--especially if Lucifer wasn't going to help him out.

"If you think I'm going to forget about the way you've been acting when I get my powers back, you are seriously mistaken."

" _If_ you get your powers back. Until then you're not the one I work for," Zeke said, glaring up at the devil. "Frankly you're nothing but a pain in my ass, and if it wasn't for the fact that I owe you for saving me and that I made a promise to look after you, I wouldn't give a damn what happens to you."

Lucifer stared at him, dumbstruck. Under that unblinking, gray gaze, Zeke felt sorry, almost, for the anger with which he'd spoken. He was just too frustrated with the situation and not in the mood for things to continue like they had been. If they were going to be able to do this, work together, live together (Ugh! Zeke grimaced; that was a disturbing thought), things had to change. No more bickering, no more goading. No more damn games.

Lucifer finally snapped out of it and managed a weak smile of acquiescence. "Joseph Holland," he said.

"Joseph Holland?" Zeke repeated with a frown.

Lucifer nodded, and leaned against the brick wall of the laundromat, arms crossed over his chest. "He was raised in a Catholic orphanage--raised, and repeatedly sexually abused by a priest who had a fondness for little blond-haired boys. Clearly those early childhood traumas left a lasting impression on our dear Joseph. Like so many of the abused, he went on to commit the same crimes himself when he grew older. The sins of the father, as they always say..." the devil trailed off with a shrug.

"So he's a child molester."

"And a murderer. He grew too paranoid about one day being caught or reported by one of his victims, so he started killing them once he was finished with them. The sorry bastard got away with all of it--until he died forty-odd years ago of heart attack." The devil tilted his head and smiled. "I thought it was quite a fitting punishment, to be forever tormented by the cries of his victims. Looks like it stuck too, since he carried those voices back with him here to Earth."

"And now he's going after priests. Was the priest who abused him ever brought to justice?"

"After his death, most certainly. During his life, I don't know."

"So is Joseph from this area?"

"Can't recall, but it would seem to be a likely bet. Demons are rather fond of returning to familiar territory when they can--even when the memories are less than pleasant."

"So what was the name of the orphanage...and the priest?"

"I don't know."

"You don't?"

"No!" the devil answered testily. "Be glad I can remember as much as I do about him. Once, I could tell you the entire life story of every soul in my domain. This now-human brain I'm stuck with is woefully incapable of such tasks. I've forgotten more in the past two days than you could ever imagine learning in a thousand lifetimes!"

"Sorry," Zeke offered in gruff apology, this time really feeling a tinge of honest sympathy. He could see the tension in Lucifer's face; for a moment the devil's calm exterior seemed in serious danger of collapsing.

Yet Lucifer recovered his composure within the space of a deep breath and curtly replied, "Apology accepted, if insufficient. But I'll let it pass this time."

Zeke went back to searching the ground for anything of note, but came up empty-handed. The alley was clean, not that he'd held much hope of finding something, but he never could tell. Still, with the devil's story he had much more substantial information to go by and it was time to move on.

"Are we done here?" Lucifer asked as Zeke stood up, brushing his hands off on his coat.

"Yeah. Seems like a dead end here."

"Or a not-so-dead end, from Father Stanton's point of view. So what's next?"

"The library. Time to do a little research. We have a name; hopefully we can dig up something of use from that."

  


## Chapter 6

  


Research was tedious work. Zeke found himself wishing he had spent a little more time with Max, learning how to use the internet to do this instead of spending countless hours in the library. He always got completely lost when she started rambling on about "dot.com" this and "yahoo" that, but he had a feeling she'd have been able to find the information he was looking for in no time at all.

The thought crossed his mind that he could give her a call and see what she could find for him, but he quickly vetoed the idea. He had to remind himself that he'd left L.A. not just to protect his own skin, but to protect his friends' as well. He needed to keep his distance from all of them now, if he wanted to make sure Ash left them alone. Besides, he knew his way around index cards and microfiche machines. With a little patience, he knew he should be able to find at least _some_ information about his quarry, Joseph Holland. Hopefully, that information would put him on the demon's trail before Holland could attack another priest.

Lucifer, while not offering Zeke any help with his task, at least stayed out of the detective's way. He settled down at a desk with a pile of current newspapers, claiming he needed to spend some time catching up on current events. "Just because I'm out of the game temporarily doesn't mean I should fall behind on what's going on in the world," the devil had explained, "especially when I orchestrated so much of it!"

By late afternoon, Zeke's search had yielded some results, but not much. He found an obituary from October 12, 1957 for a man by the name of Joseph Holland, resident of 815 Cole Street. The man had died of a heart attack at the age of fifty. That matched the cause of death and approximate timeframe that the devil had given Zeke for this particular soul's arrival in Hell. This Mr. Holland had run a small bookstore on the first floor of the building where he'd lived. He'd died unmarried and with no children, and no known surviving relatives. There was no reference to any family at all in the obituary--no parents or siblings--supporting the fact that Holland was an orphan.

While scanning through newspapers from around the time of Holland's death, Zeke also found a small item on the discovery of a young boy's

body in a nearby park, just a few days before Holland had died. The body had shown signs of sexual assault before death by a broken neck. It wasn't much to go on, but it was confirmation of the devil's suspicions as to who Zeke's quarry was this time--a child molester returned home to San Francisco, out for vengeance against the priests he blamed for his deviant ways.

If it was still standing, Holland's old residence would be a good place to start the hunt. Even if the building was gone, Holland could still be hanging around in the general area, so Zeke could try asking around about him. As the devil had said, demons liked to stick to familiar territory. Zeke had been no different upon his return to Earth, visiting his old home, staying in New York City and hovering near familiar places until he'd found out Rosalyn had moved to Los Angeles. And there he'd stayed, hanging close to her, to that "familiar territory", until forced to move on.

With research concluded for the day, it was time to take care of a slightly different problem--finding a place for them to stay for at least the next few days, perhaps even longer, if it turned out Holland wasn't the only demon haunting the streets of San Francisco. Zeke didn't fancy camping out in their car every night, nor did he think Lucifer would, either. He searched the library for some tourist guides to the city, looking specifically for information on the seedier areas of town that the guides recommended travelers avoid if at all possible. Zeke figured those would be his best bets for finding a room within his budget.

"The Tenderloin", as it was called, proved to be just the kind of neighborhood he was searching for. A section of the city filled with strip clubs and seedy bars in buildings that looked ready to be condemned, it was there that he found a run-down boarding house with a room rate Zeke could afford. The place made his old room in L.A. look like a penthouse suite, but it would have to do. It had the bare essentials they needed--two beds, a bathroom, and a small kitchenette down the hall.

Lucifer took in their accommodations with obvious disdain but, for the most part, kept his mouth shut and didn't complain. He crashed and slept most of the afternoon while Zeke zoned out in front of the TV. It only picked up two stations clearly but he didn't care; he wasn't really paying attention to the programs. He just needed a few hours to relax and not have to think about anything of importance. He only perked up when the early evening news came on. He listened to hear if there was any new information on the attacks on the priests--or even a new victim. But there was nothing new to report.

Zeke was getting ready to head out to resume his hunt when the devil finally awoke from his nap.

"Where are you going?"

"Out to do my job. You coming along or staying here?" Zeke asked, rather hoping Lucifer might stay behind so he could have a little time to himself--and no interference while he worked.

"Why, I'm coming along, of course. Where are we going?"

"To check out Holland's old neighborhood. I want to see where he lived. If we're lucky he might still be hanging around."

With evening the temperatures had turned colder and a drizzling rain had begun to fall. Having a car made it a lot easier to get around, even if Ezekiel got lost a few times trying to navigate the unfamiliar city. They finally found Cole Street and Ezekiel was able to park just across the street from their destination, building number 815.

"Damn this weather," the devil cursed as he stepped out of the vehicle, shivering even though Ezekiel had loaned him his long coat to wear. The detective could sense the strong chill in the air, even though he was immune to an actual physical reaction to it.

"I like cold. And wet," Zeke mused aloud, remembering far too well the conditions in Hell. "It certainly beats the heat."

"Heat? Please, don't mention heat. You're making me homesick."

Ezekiel looked across the street, at the building where Holland had lived nearly a half-century ago. The two-story brick building showed its age, but it was still in reasonably good condition. The first-floor bookstore was gone, replaced by "The Crimson Moon" coffeehouse. Dark red curtains in the large storefront window obscured most of view inside. There were no lights on upstairs that he could see.

"Well, at least we can get something to eat while we're working tonight," Zeke said. Though with these trendy new coffeehouses that had sprouted up everywhere while he was in Hell, he knew they'd be lucky if they could just get two cups of coffee and maybe a cookie with the cash he had left in his pocket.

They crossed the street and entered the establishment, finding it to be a cozy, warmly lit room filled with mismatched second-hand tables and chairs. Ethnic music of some sort rumbled beneath the chatter of the coffeehouse patrons. It seemed to be a pretty young crowd of student and artistic- types--he could see Max fitting in perfectly in a place like this. A waitress with a pretty face but shocking blue hair and multiple piercings smiled at them from across the room and said, "Take a seat anywhere, I'll be with you in a sec."

They sat down at a small table just inside the doorway. From there, Zeke had a good view of the place and he could also watch the street, from an opening in the curtains. He gave the other patrons a better once-over while Lucifer studied the menu on the wall across from them. The devil laughed a little and shook his head. "Double-latte caramel mochachinos and fusion-berry frappes...what nonsense you humans blissfully buy into, all in the name of being trendy and 'chic'."

" _You_ humans?" Ezekiel repeated. "You would be one of those 'you humans' now, don't forget." On this point, though, Ezekiel had to admit the devil's mockery wasn't entirely off-base. He'd take a plain cup of good coffee for a quarter any day over these five- dollar-a-shot-confections of burnt espresso and sugary syrups.

The blue-haired waitress came over after a couple minutes and said, "Hi, do you guys know what you want?"

"Actually, what we'd really like right now is a minute of your time, if that's possible." Zeke quickly flashed his badge at her. "I'm Detective Stone, this is my partner, Detective Gonner. We're looking for a suspect in some recent crimes. We have reason to believe he might have been here, some time in the last few days or weeks. He might even be a regular customer," Zeke wagered.

"Really? Wow, that's freaky," the woman said. "Is this guy dangerous?"

"He could be. But probably not to you or any of your customers here. His name is Joseph Holland. About fifty years old, light brown hair, average height and build. Not the kind of guy that would really stand out in a crowd." Of course in a place like this, a guy like Holland probably would stand out, though Zeke didn't say as much. "He used to live in this building," Zeke added, and at that the woman's eyes suddenly lit up with recognition.

"Hey, wait a minute, I think I know who you mean!" She grabbed a chair from a neighboring empty table and sat down next to Zeke. "Yeah, Joe. I know Joe. He comes in here every couple nights. I remember him saying something about living here a long time ago."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Weird old guy, talks to himself when he's not trying to hold me or one of the other gals up in a conversation." She shrugged. "At first he made me nervous, but then I figured he was just kind of sad and lonely. So I put him at one of the tables in the back of the room when he comes in; that way he doesn't bother the other customers."

It seemed as if they'd found their man. Zeke asked, "He didn't happen to say anything about where he was living now, did he?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head, "not that I remember. He just said he'd been away for a long time, for years."

"When does he usually come in?"

The waitress thought for a moment, then checked the clock on the wall behind them. "Close to now, actually. If you wait around you might get lucky and catch him here. It's been a couple days since I've seen him."

"Yeah, I think we'll stick around for a while," Zeke answered. He looked at Lucifer, who merely shrugged, offering no other suggestions.

They ordered some coffee and a sandwich. When the waitress came back with their order a few minutes later, Lucifer asked her, "Tell me, young lady, the apartment above this fine establishment--do you know if it is currently occupied?"

"Last I knew, there was this old hag named Marta living there. God, I hated that woman! She was always coming in here bitching about the noise and music, complaining to the landlord about us. But you know, she hasn't come by to hassle us in a while, so maybe she finally got fed up and moved out. Or croaked." The woman shrugged. "I see the lights on upstairs sometimes so someone's up there--places around here get rented out quick. Must be someone new who's real quiet."

"Must be," Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow at Ezekiel once the woman left. "Care to take a guess as to the identity of that new tenant, Ezekiel?"

"Wouldn't be surprising, would it?" Zeke checked his watch. "If Holland doesn't make an appearance in here before closing time, I'll check it out." He didn't want to attempt any breaking and entering upstairs while there were so many people here in the cafe.

"Very well," Lucifer agreed, and then he grabbed their plate of food, claiming the sandwich all for himself.

"Hey. I thought we were going to share," Zeke complained.

"You eat out of habit. I eat out of necessity. Go flirt with Marge Simpson's love child back there and I'm sure she'll offer you some tasty favors," the devil said with a nod toward their waitress.

"No thanks. Blue's not my color." Zeke sighed and took a sip of his coffee, and settled in for what he figured was going to be a long night.

* * *

They waited, and waited, until the steady stream of customers slowed to a last few night owls, but there was no sign of Joseph Holland. In the meantime, they had both consumed far too much coffee as their chatty waitress kept them going with free refills. The caffeine had no effect on Ezekiel, but Lucifer was practically bouncing off the walls and had had enough of just sitting around, waiting.

"This is pointless. Holland's not going to show. Go check out the upstairs and see if our little lost demon has made a messy eviction of the former tenant."

"Be patient," Ezekiel advised.

"Fuck being patient. This sitting around for hours staring at the walls is driving me crazy."

"You're going to make _me_ crazy if you don't switch to decaf."

The waitress came over and said, "Sorry boys, closing time. Looks like your man was a no- show tonight."

"Yeah, well, there's always tomorrow," Zeke answered.

"So you'll be coming back?" She looked hopefully at Ezekiel.

"If we don't have a better lead by then, most likely."

"Well, good luck with your investigation and all that. And maybe I'll see you around again, right?"

"Yeah. Maybe." She smiled at him, obviously pleased at the prospect of him coming back. He returned her smile, but sighed and shook his head as soon as she left to settle up with the other remaining customers. "Let's get out of here," he told Lucifer.

"It's about time."

Ezekiel led the way outside and then across the street to their car. "I thought you were going to check out the apartment," Lucifer remarked.

"I am, as soon as everyone's out downstairs. Until then we sit and wait in the car."

They waited. Zeke watched the building, the upstairs windows, but there were still no lights on, at least not in the front room facing the street. After about twenty minutes, the lights went off in the coffeeshop, and Zeke watched as their waitress and a few other employees locked up the storefront and left. The detective waited a few more minutes, mostly just gearing himself up for a possible confrontation. He was trying not to think about how poorly his last confrontation with a demon had gone, and the torture he'd gone through as a result of his missteps.

"Nervous, detective? Doubting your ability to capture Holland?"

"I thought you couldn't get into my head any more."

"I know you well enough, Ezekiel, that I don't need my powers to see your thoughts right now." There was silence, for a moment. Then Lucifer touched Zeke's hand. Zeke turned to look at his companion, angry at first but then just puzzled. Lucifer's expression, for once, was serious, and there was no mocking tone in his voice when he said, "You made a mistake the last time. Accept it and move past it. I would not have chosen you for this task in the first place if I did not believe in your ability to complete it."

The devil's words and honesty surprised Ezekiel. Maybe mortality was having a good effect on Lucifer after all. "Thanks," Ezekiel said. Their gaze held for a moment longer than the detective was comfortable with. He drew his hand away and quickly got out of the car, checking to make sure he had his gun tucked against his side, under the baggy folds of his sweatshirt.

"Stay here," he said to Lucifer, "If it looks like there's going to be bad trouble, don't come after me, just take the car and go back to the hotel. All right?"

The devil nodded.

"Let's get this over with," Zeke said to himself, and then he crossed the quiet, empty street and stood before the apartment entry to 815 Cole.

He tried the buzzer, just in case. He didn't want to bust into the place if Holland wasn't there and it had just been rented to another individual. When there was no response after a few minutes and several rings, he tested the door. It was old and not very secure; with his better-than-human strength he knew he could break it open without too much trouble. One quick glance around the street, and one deep breath, and then he gave the door a solid kick. It flew open and Zeke rushed up the stairs, not looking back, knowing he should work quickly. There was a second locked door at the top of the stairs, which he made quick work of again. He entered just as he would have during any police raid, gun drawn, at full alert.

No lights were on. The apartment seemed truly empty. He stood frozen, for a moment, listening, straining all of his senses to detect any sign of movement, of there being anyone else on the premises. When he convinced himself that he was alone, he felt the wall for a light switch. He turned on an overhead light and took in the contents of the apartment living room quickly.

Everything was fairly neat, though there was definitely a musty smell to the air. He saw a large pile of unopened mail sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the room. He glanced at one of the envelopes--it was addressed to "Mrs. Marta Diamond". He went into the kitchen, and found nothing in the refrigerator except for some extremely fuzzy fruit and a pile of mold that at one time might have been cheese.

One thing caught his eye in the kitchen--an open Yellow Pages, next to the phone. He walked over to take a better look.

Holland had been here, all right. Zeke was certain of it when he saw where the book had been left open--a page listing "Churches- Catholic-Latin Rite". There looked to be nearly a hundred listings, though many had been crossed out with a red pen. About a half-dozen churches had been circled, and one of them Zeke recognized as Father Stanton's. Zeke put his gun down for a moment as he reached in his pants pocket for his paper and pencil to write down names and numbers. Holland could be at one of those circled churches right now, stalking his next victim. Zeke wanted to take this information and get out, as quickly as possible.

Zeke paused in his writing, once, thinking he'd heard a voice. Just a soft whisper. He listened closely for a minute, standing dead still and tensing for action, but he heard nothing more. He shook it off as just nerves and went back to writing down the information.

He finished up and shoved the paper into his pocket. He was just reaching for his gun and turning to leave when someone plunged a knife into his back.

The pain and shock to his body left him helpless for a moment, but he fought against the pain and spun around, grabbing his assailant and slamming the figure against the kitchen countertop.

Joseph Holland glared back at him, fire rising up in his demonic eyes as he hissed "Who are you?" and struggled against Zeke's grip.

"Your ticket home, Holland." Zeke's gun had slid down the counter, out of his immediate reach. His pencil lay just inches from Holland's head, though. If he could let go for a moment, he could grab it and--

"NO!" Holland screamed. He broke free of Zeke's grasp and sent the detective flying into the opposite wall. Zeke gasped as the knife in his back was slammed in deeper, radiating pain all through his body.

"No, I'm not going back there! You can't make me go back! Leave me alone or I'll kill you!"

"You can't. I'm already dead," Zeke ducked a swing of Holland's fist at his head, then landed a solid blow of his own to the demon's stomach. Zeke ran for his gun, grabbed it and spun around, firing madly in Holland's direction.

But Holland was on the run now, looking to flee instead of fight. Zeke heard glass shattering and ran into the bedroom in the back of the apartment. He saw the broken window and ran for it, feeling glass shards ripping at his clothes and flesh, not thinking of anything except not losing Holland. He fell hard on the pavement but got to his feet as quickly as he could, looking all about the dark alley behind the building, looking for any signs of Holland.

Nothing. Not a trace. The alley led out into open streets to Zeke's right and left, but Zeke couldn't see the demon anywhere.

Zeke fell to the ground, breathing heavy, cursing himself for losing Holland. The pain in his back reminded him of the blade still lodged there, and he reached behind him to find the hilt of the knife. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pulled it out and threw it away in disgust. He knew he had to get out of there. Between the break-in and the gun shots it wouldn't be long before one of the neighbors called the cops. He staggered to his feet and ran out of the alley, around the corner back to Cole Street.

Lucifer was standing out on the street next to the car. Relief was clear on his face as soon as he spotted Ezekiel running toward him. "I saw Holland go inside. I heard shots. Did you get him?" Lucifer asked.

"Get in the car," Zeke ordered. "Come on, let's get out of here. Now!" He practically pushed the devil inside.

"What happened, dammit!"

Zeke slammed shut his door and started the engine. "He got away," he finally said once they had pulled out onto the street and were driving away. "The son of a bitch attacked me and then ran, right out through the back window. I lost him."

"Hell," Lucifer swore.

  


## Chapter 7

  


He wasn't back in this place. He couldn't be. It was over, wasn't it? The pain, the torture, the darkness...it was all supposed to be over. The devil had come to save him from this misery days before.

"Save you?" a sickeningly familiar voice taunted him. "No one's coming to save you, Zeke Stone. No one's coming for you but Ash."

Laughter. Laughter all around him, drowning out his own screams as a blade cut into his flesh, down to bone. Had it all been a dream, a hallucination? Had he merely imagined his rescue? His mind rebelled against the thought, despaired to think that there was in fact no hope, nothing to wish for but for it all to be over, for someone to take out his eyes and return him to Hell.

"You think this is bad now, just wait 'till Ash gets here. She's got plans for you...you and that lady friend of yours...what's her name, Rosalyn?"

Rosalyn? No, not Rosalyn! He couldn't let anything happen to her. She had to be safe. He would endure all of this and more if it meant Ros would be safe. "Leave her...out of this," he managed to gasp, each word a struggle to get past his dry lips.

"Oh, it's too late for that, isn't that right, boys?"

Laughter came from all around him, and then--

"Ezekiel! Oh, God, Ezekiel!"

Her voice. That was her voice crying his name. The sound of it hurt worse than the blade cutting into his body. He raised his head and opened his eyes. Immediately he wished he had kept them closed so he wouldn't have had to see the horrible sight before him.

"Zeke, please, help me..."

Rosalyn. Chained to the wall, facing him, her clothes ripped and bloodied, her body, oh god, the things they'd done to her...

"Rosalyn!" Zeke struggled against his restraints, rallied the last remnants of his strength in a fruitless attempt to free himself. He had to stop them. He had to get to her, before the demons did anything worse. "Let her go, please...she doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"Ezekiel--" His name trailed off in a scream as the demons gathered around her, laughing, sharp blades and glass shards flashing in the dull light of the cavernous room.

"ROS!"

"Ezekiel, wake up! Ezekiel!"

Zeke gasped and struggled against his restraints...hands. Just hands holding him back, he realized, cold hands grasping his arms. The devil's hands.

"You were dreaming, Ezekiel. Screaming loud enough to wake the entire building."

"Dreaming...?" Zeke looked all around him, blinking to clear away his disorientation. He felt sick inside, the nightmarish visions clinging to his thoughts as much as he wished to shake them off, to forget about them forever.

"Yes, just a dream. Though I gather that it wasn't a very pleasant one."

"No, it wasn't." Zeke got up from the bed and went to the window, needing some fresh air.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" the devil asked.

"Why, so you can get your jollies off my nightmares?" Ezekiel snapped back.

"I was only trying to help."

"Just go back to sleep."

"I can't. I had too much of that damn coffee."

"Then watch TV. Or something." Zeke grabbed his sweater and put it on, then started hunting around to find his shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed. Going out." It was nearly dawn, and Zeke knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep for some time. He had to get busy, think about things other than that nightmare. He could try to pick up Holland's trail, do a little more hunting around to figure out where the demon might show up next.

"Give me a minute and I'll join you."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather work solo today." Zeke donned his coat and felt his pockets. Sure enough, his daily allowance of thirty-six dollars and change was there. He pulled out the money and tossed twenty-five on the dresser, figuring that was enough to keep the devil busy and fed for one day. He certainly had no appetite. "Try not to spend this all in one place, all right?"

"So what am I supposed to do with myself all day?"

"I don't know. See the sites. Catch a movie. Spend a day just...being human. I need some time alone."

"And to work on catching Holland."

"Yeah, that too."

Lucifer didn't look pleased, but Zeke didn't really care. The detective had meant what he said--he needed some time to himself, to concentrate on the hunt without having the devil one step behind him every second, always with him, day in, day out.

"Just try not to get in trouble, all right?" Zeke added as he headed for the door.

"What kind of trouble could I possibly get into, Detective?" Lucifer asked innocently.

Zeke didn't even want to think about an answer to that one.

* * *

The detective spent most of the day driving and walking around to the churches that had been circled in the phone book, the ones marked by Joseph Holland. Every person he spoke to at the different locations was quite aware of the assaults and murders, though none had seen a man fitting Holland's description. He warned them all to be extra careful, and he gave out his phone number to each person he talked to, just in case they thought of something or saw something suspicious going on in the future. At the end of the day, he didn't feel as if he had accomplished very much. The car's gas tank was nearing empty and he only had a few bucks left for the day, so he decided it was time to head back home and check in on Lucifer.

Their room was empty when he arrived at the boarding house, at about quarter of five. There was no note or message indicating where Lucifer had gone, but Zeke didn't worry much about it. The devil was certain to show up soon enough. Zeke crashed out on his bed and decided to take a nap until then. He feared a repeat of the morning's nightmare, but felt drained and the need for a rest won out over his worries.

No dreams haunted his sleep that evening, and Zeke slept soundly, not awakening until after ten. Lucifer still wasn't there, and that was beginning to bother him. Maybe for nothing-- after all, this was the devil he was worrying about. He ought to be able to take care of himself.

But then again, the devil wasn't exactly his old self any longer. He could have gotten himself in some kind of trouble. Which, oddly enough, was a thought that disturbed Ezekiel. A few days ago he wouldn't have cared less, but now he was concerned, at least on some level, about Lucifer's safety.

 _But what I am gonna do about it?_ Zeke asked himself. He walked over to the window and looked out at the street. While the sidewalks had been dead earlier in the day, now they were alive with activity, people milling about and moving from one bar to the next. Neon flashed brightly, tempting those passing by to come inside with promises of X-rated entertainment. Maybe Lucifer hadn't wandered far at all, Zeke wondered hopefully. Checking out the dives on this block certainly seemed like the first and most obvious place to look for him, so it was certainly worth a shot.

Zeke took the elevator downstairs and stepped out onto the street, taking a quick look around to decide where to try first. No one place seemed more of an obvious choice than the next, so he just started at the end of the block and worked his way down.

The search didn't end up taking him very long at all. The third establishment that he tried proclaimed itself to be a "gentlemans" club, but judging from the clientele that term was being very loosely applied. Though the lighting was dark and the smoke exceptionally thick, he spotted Lucifer quickly, sitting at one of the tables close to the stage. He was clearly enjoying the entertainment being provided by two topless dancers, and the number of empty glasses on his table indicated that he had been enjoying it for quite some time.

A drunk devil. Terrific. That was _just_ what Zeke needed tonight.

He worked his way through the crowd toward Lucifer. "Having a good time?" he shouted out over the noise as he pulled over a chair to join the devil at his table.

Lucifer's attention was diverted away from the stage by his presence, though it seemed to take a moment for the devil to recognize just who had come to join him. He then broke into a wide smile and laughed. "Zekie! Why, as a matter of fact I'm having a _very_ good time. Who wouldn't have a grand time with all of this--" he waved at the table full of empty glasses, "- -and all of that!" He ended by waving and blowing a kiss at the girls.

"And just how long have you been here, enjoying this and that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Who cares?" He picked up an empty shot glass and waved it in Ezekiel's face. "Did you know, Zekie, that I've never been drunk before? It's marvelous! Now I can fully appreciate the appeal of insobriety." He reached for a half-full glass of beer and downed the amber liquid, made a brief face, and then looked back at the scrawny girls on the stage again. He sighed happily. "I like this place. It's got real character. Lewd, cheap, tawdry...a shining example of some of the very _good_ things I've brought to Earth, don't you think, Zekie?"

"I think we'd better get you out of here, that's what I think." Zeke stood and, when the devil didn't immediately rise with him, grabbed him by the right arm and yanked him out of his chair.

"Ow! You're just no fun, you know that? No fun at all," Lucifer complained, stumbling and colliding with Zeke. "Oh, damn...why is the room spinning...?"

"Come on," Zeke sighed, checking the devil's pants pockets to find out where he'd stashed the money he'd been given in the morning.

Lucifer giggled and said, "Zekie, if you want to get into my pants, can't you wait until we get home?"

"Don't even think about it," Ezekiel snarled, finding the crumpled bills and throwing them on the table, hoping it would be enough to cover the devil's bill and not wanting to hang around long enough to find out. He hooked his arm around the other man's waist and navigated him as quickly as he could across the room and to the door. They staggered across the street, dodging traffic, Ezekiel trying to keep them upright while Lucifer stumbled and wouldn't shut up, rambling on and on about the joys of alcohol consumption. The man on duty at the front desk of the boarding house didn't say a thing as Zeke led his drunk companion to the elevator; he just shook his head, as if he'd seen it all a few too many times before.

The elevator door opened and Zeke pushed his companion inside. Zeke let go of his grasp on the devil for a moment to press the button for their floor. Lucifer immediately collapsed to the ground. "Oh, I don't feel so good..." he moaned, his bubbly mood suddenly turning sour. He burped and clutched his stomach.

"Take it easy, we're almost there," Zeke said, just hoping Lucifer would keep it down until he got them back to their room.

He did--but just barely. Never in Zeke's wildest, weirdest dreams could he have imagined that one day he'd be sitting on a cold tile floor in the bathroom of a fleabag boarding house, watching Satan himself puke his guts out down the toilet.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

When he had emptied the contents of his stomach fully, Lucifer slumped back against the wall, looking sweaty, pale, and ill. Zeke reached over him to flush the toilet, and then offered a cool, damp towel to his companion. Lucifer looked at Zeke and took the cloth. "Thanks..." he mumbled, wiping off his mouth, his forehead, then dropping the towel to the floor with a groan. "So this is what it means to feel like shit."

"Wait until the morning. You think being drunk is bad, wait until your first hangover." Zeke stood up and got a cup of water, which he then handed to Lucifer. "Here, drink this, as much as you can. It'll help."

The devil took it and cautiously sipped from the cup. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "I just wanted...to forget for a while, you know, Zekie? That's what they always say drinking is good for--to forget. Forget all your troubles...just forget everything. But you know, I couldn't seem to drink enough to forget everything I wanted to forget."

Zeke knew the feeling. He was more than a little familiar with the urge to drown one's sorrows in alcohol, but he also knew from experience that it didn't work very well. He didn't say anything, though, he just sat next to Lucifer in silence, watching and waiting, wanting to be certain he wasn't going to be so ill that he'd need to go to the hospital.

Lucifer gazed mournfully at Zeke. "I was His favorite, did you know that, Zekie? The most perfect of all His creations. Except I wasn't. Perfect, I mean. Not perfectly subservient to His ideas, at least. No, because I dared to have a mind of my own." He paused for a half-hearted laugh. "And look what _that_ got me."

Zeke almost laughed as well--there was something about the sight a drunken devil moaning about his miserable lot in life that was a little too surreal. Yet the pain he saw in Lucifer's eyes held Zeke's humor in check. It left him uncomfortable, too, those eyes fixed on him, clearly looking to him for some support, some understanding.

Eventually Zeke had to looked away. "Let's get you to bed before you pass out here on the floor," he said hastily. The devil offered no resistance as Zeke helped him to his feet and led him to his bed. Lucifer fell on the mattress with a groan and a barrage of curses. Zeke went back to the bathroom to refill the water glass, then brought it out to leave on the table by the bed in case Lucifer wanted it later. Ezekiel stood back and noticed that the devil looked half-asleep already. In a last act of generosity, Zeke eased the other man's shoes off and tossed them to the floor. He decided that was as much assistance in undressing as he was willing to give, and that he should get ready himself for a few hours' sleep. Tomorrow he would be busy hunting and babysitting a devil who would no doubt be even more of a grouch than usual.

Zeke stripped down to his shirt and shorts, brushed his teeth, and stepped back out of the bathroom. He looked across the room and noticed Lucifer was actually still awake, watching Zeke with a strange expression on his face. Zeke walked over to his bed and kneeled down next to him. "You gonna to be all right?" Zeke asked, surprised at the genuine concern he heard in his own voice.

"No, I don't think so," Lucifer answered, favoring him with a smile--a genuine one, for once, that reminded Zeke of his guardian angel's smile in the fondness it betrayed. "But that's all right. I'll survive. I always do." Still holding Zeke's gaze, Lucifer reached out to touch his face. His touch was light, his fingers cold and trembling slightly as he ran them gently down Ezekiel's cheek.

Zeke was frozen, too stunned by the touch and the look in those eyes to move away. He saw it then, knew that what he'd been told was true-- the devil really did love him. He could see it in Lucifer's eyes and his expression. He could feel it in the soft caress of those fingertips, which left his skin tingling even after Lucifer drew his hand back, and gave Zeke a last glance filled with sorrow and longing before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

Ezekiel didn't move for a long time. He felt disoriented, almost a little dizzy, uncertain of what was going on and what he was feeling.

He hadn't doubted the angel's words before, about what Lucifer felt for him...but it was something different to see it with his own eyes, if only for a second when the alcohol had lowered the devil's defenses. Zeke found himself reaching out for the other man's face, brushing a long strand of hair away from his cheek as he mirrored the way the devil had touched him. Revulsion warred with a strange, inexplicable attraction in Ezekiel's mind as he studied this other being, this creature he could call neither angel nor devil, not human nor demon.

"I don't want to care about you," Zeke whispered. "And I don't want you to care about me. I can't love you. I love someone else...I always will..." he vowed, even as a nagging voice inside him reminded him of the past, of how he had nearly violated that "always" with Ash not so long before. Perhaps his loyalty was not quite so infallible as he liked to believe.

But to fall in love with the devil? No, never. Not a chance. Not after the things he'd put Zeke through. Zeke drew his hand back and shook his thoughts away from such things. He was struck with the urge to go out and hunt, his earlier sleepiness that had brought him back here having faded away. But he didn't want to leave Lucifer alone in case he got sick again, and so instead he went over to his bed, turned on the TV low and flipped through the channels until past sunrise.

  


## Chapter 8

  


The days that followed passed slowly, without event, and without any progress in the hunt for Joseph Holland. The demon had seemingly vanished into thin air, perhaps frightened off by the confrontation with Ezekiel--either that, or he was simply laying low, biding his time until his next planned assault.

Whatever the case, Ezekiel felt as if he was doing nothing but spinning his wheels, wasting time until something new happened that would put him back on the demon's trail. Zeke didn't want that "something new" to be another dead priest. Each day he checked in at churches which had been on Holland's phone book list, talked with the clergymen to find out if they had seen or heard anything suspicious, but that was getting him nowhere.

Stone's new boss had not made another appearance since that first night in San Francisco. Either he was satisfied with what little progress Zeke had made in the past few days--which the detective thought was unlikely--or he had more pressing matters requiring his attention. Lucifer favored the latter explanation. "No doubt he thought running Hell was going to be an easy job. He had no idea of the intricacies of my work-- no one does! I doubt he'll have any free moments to waste on you for some time," the devil had told him.

Zeke supposed he'd just have to wait and see, but in the meantime he wasn't complaining about being left alone. When he'd satisfied his sense of having done what he could each day to search for Holland, Zeke spent the rest of his time just trying to relax and adjust to the changes in his situation. The nightmares about his captivity and torture continued, not every night but often enough to know it would a long time before he was fully past it, before he had his confidence back. He knew he wasn't operating at one hundred percent, and he knew that might also be why he was running dry on finding Holland. His focus was off, his strength still not what he remembered it being. They hadn't taken his eyes, but his demonic captures had taken some of his spirit.

Lucifer's spirit also had become more subdued than ever. His jibes at Ezekiel had lost much of their old bite, and he fell into dark, sullen moods where he barely said anything, merely responding if asked a direct question and nothing more. He ate, and slept, and had apparently adjusted to the basic needs of mortal existence, but clearly deeper problems bothered him.

Zeke increasingly found himself thinking and worrying about Lucifer. The way the devil had looked at him, that one drunken night, was stuck in his head and he could not shake its impact. The love and sadness he had seen in those eyes had touched something inside of him, as much as he hated to admit it. They never spoke of that night, Lucifer claiming he remembered nothing about his drunken binge and what may or may not have happened afterwards. Whether that was a lie or the truth, Ezekiel didn't know, nor did he press the matter.

They were faced with a particularly sunny, beautiful warm morning when Zeke decided he needed to do something to stir Lucifer out of his growing depression. "We're taking the day off," he announced.

"What?" Zeke's companion hadn't even crawled out of bed yet, even though it was nearly eleven and Zeke had already showered, dressed, gone out for food and read the morning papers.

"I said, we're taking the day off. Just have some fun, for a change."

"You go have fun. I'm going back to sleep." Lucifer pulled his bed cover over his head. Zeke walked over to the bed and yanked the cover off.

"Come on. We're gonna go out and find something fun to do. Something normal, living, mortal people do for fun."

"Why bother? You're not living, and I'm not normal."

"Because it's better than lying around all day doing nothing."

"So _you_ say. I beg to differ." Lucifer rolled over away from the light coming in the window, and curled up in a fetal position, leaving Ezekiel faced with the devil's boxer shorts-covered bottom.

Increasingly annoyed, Zeke slapped his ass. Lucifer yelped and gave the former detective a furious look. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to get you moving. I'm sick of watching you wallowing in self-pity."

The devil's glare turned into an annoyed scowl, and he finally sat up and asked, without much enthusiasm, "So exactly what kind of 'fun' did you have in mind?"

Zeke remembered a listing he saw in the morning's paper and smiled. "You'll see."

* * *

Zeke sprawled out on the grass at Golden Gate Park, eyes closed as the sun beat down and the sweet, sweet sound of skillful blues guitar washed over him. He couldn't imagine Heaven being much better than this--except Heaven would be having Rosalyn lying next to him, not a grumpy devil.

"So. This is what you call having fun?" Lucifer asked sourly, his words setting a jarring note against the music filling the air.

Zeke opened his eyes and sighed, trying not to let the devil's foul mood dampen his spirits. "Yeah. It's called taking it easy-- sitting out in the park on a nice day, listening to a free concert, eating hot dogs and popcorn and ice cream...that's what I call fun."

"Hmph," was all Lucifer had to say in response. Still, Zeke thought that the day's excursion seemed to be having some positive effect on the devil, as he was acting a little more like his normal bitchy self for the first time in days.

Zeke sat up and wondered aloud, "So what would you consider having fun...or do I even want to know."

"Oh, I don't know if your little sanctimonious heart could stand it, Ezekiel. I mean, if there's no agony, no screams of despair, no pain and suffering, then as far as I'm concerned there's simply no fun to be had at all."

Zeke shook his head and turned his attention back to the musicians. They started to play a more up-tempo song, and Zeke watched with a smile as two young children, not more than six or seven years old each, got up and started dancing in front of the stage. What would it be like to be that young again? he wondered idly. To be so carefree, to just be able to get up and dance when the music moved you, to not have any worries at all.

Not that his own childhood had ever been particularly carefree, Zeke recalled more grimly. His father had made sure he was miserable most of the time, especially after his mother had died and there was no one else around the house to suffer the man's drunken abuse. Zeke had wanted children of his own so badly, yet he always had carried the fear, in the back of his mind, that he'd be no better father than his own.

Lucifer managed to pick up on Ezekiel's train of thought, even with his angelic super-senses gone. "Pining for lost innocence, lost chances, Ezekiel? It's not healthy, you know. That kind of stuff just eats away at a man."

"I know. Believe me, I know." He turned to Lucifer and added, "Just like it's not healthy to spend all day hiding in bed, sulking and wallowing in despair. So you're mortal now. You don't like it, but you're going to have to start dealing with it. Try to make the best of it."

"And if you woke up one day to find yourself transformed into a slug, is that what you'd do? Simply 'make the best of it' and not give a damn about everything you've had taken away from you? You'd think, 'Ah, well, I'm a slug now and I'll just have to deal with it.'"

"If I were a slug, I doubt I'd have the brain power to think about much of anything."

Lucifer glowered at him. "You understand what I'm trying to say. You simply have no concept of what I've lost. You couldn't even begin to understand. You're like a slug, Ezekiel, who wouldn't even begin to have a concept of what it would be like to be a human being. That's how different the existence I had before is to the one I have now."

Zeke shrugged and lay back down on the grass. After the upbeat song was finished, the band thanked the audience for listening and announced a short break before the next band would be coming on stage. "I'm curious about something," Zeke remarked. "Just how did you mess it up with God and end up getting kicked out of Heaven, anyway?"

"Surely you've heard that story before."

"Plenty of times, but depending on who tells it, it's always a little different. I'm just wondering what _really_ happened."

"Some subjects do not make for the best idle conversation, Ezekiel," Lucifer warned.

Zeke knew it was a touchy subject, but he

was curious to hear the devil's side of things. He didn't press the matter, though, and he let the conversation end at that. Today was supposed to be a day to relax, to not think about Heaven and Hell and demons and missions. The next band started up, and Zeke simply zoned out to the music, and the sound of the children's laughter.

* * *

Night fell over the city, with no news, no suspicious incidents to investigate. Apparently Zeke _could_ take a day off every so often without having the world come to an end around him. He was in bed and asleep before midnight, fully intending to get back to work the next day and hopefully with a fresh point of view.

When the nightmare came to him, it began the same as always, the same as every other night it had come to haunt him since his rescue from the demons. He was in that dark, cavernous place, bound to the wall and in pain, surrounded by the taunts and laughter of his captures. They tortured him as they always did, with words and weapons and anything they could find.

But then somehow, this time, the nightmare shifted, changing shape in that incongruous way that only makes perfect sense in dreams. Now _he_ was one of the tormentors, lashing out at the shadowed man chained to the wall. Rage swirled within him, rage and satisfaction at finally being able to strike back at the one who had hurt him so much, the one who had caused him so much suffering and anguish. Now it was _his_ turn to suffer, and at Zeke's hands, to know what it felt like to be helpless and at the mercy of those who had no mercy to give. Zeke struck with his fists, pounding the restrained man over and over, and then he lashed out with blades and metal pipes, whatever he could get his hands on, whatever his fellow tormentors handed to him.

"That's it, give it to him. He deserves it," they urged him on, and they were right. This one _did_ deserve it, all of this pain and more. Zeke pierced their prisoner's body through and twisted the blade until the man screamed, and _damn_ if it didn't feel good- -good to be the one in control now, the one with all of the power.

"How does it feel now, you bastard. Tell me," Zeke hissed, rage boiling up inside of him as he leaned in closer, "how does it feel?"

His prisoner moaned. Zeke yanked at the man's hair, pulling his slumped head back so he could see the pain and fear on his face.

The gray eyes that met Zeke's looked to him with such shock, anguish, and confusion. "Ezekiel..." the devil gasped his name, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as his last breath escaped his lips. "Why..."

Zeke shuddered violently and awoke with a start--disoriented, as always, uncertain for a moment where he was. Then he glanced across the room at the other bed, where Lucifer lay sleeping, and breathed a shaky sigh of relief that it had all just been another nightmare. Another fucking, awful nightmare, different from the others but no less horrific. Zeke shuddered, feeling ill at the memory of the rage that had filled him, the things he'd done in the nightmare.

"You could do it, you know," a smooth voice whispered from behind his shoulder, startling him.

Zeke twisted around in his bed. The familiar figure stood in the dark shadows of the corner of the room. "What would be the harm in it, Ezekiel? Would the world mourn the death of the devil? I hardly think so."

Zeke shook his head. "I won't do it. I'm not a murderer."

The fallen angel laughed. "No? I think Gilbert Jax would offer a differing opinion on the subject. And don't tell me the thought hasn't crossed your mind, about how easy it would be to just pick up that gun and..." he trailed off and raised his hand, curling his long fingers in an approximation of a gun and pointing it at Lucifer's sleeping form.

Yes, the thought had crossed Zeke's mind-- that first morning, in the shower, while the devil slept on his bed. But he had pushed the thought away and never let it cross his mind again. Speaking each word slowly and clearly, Zeke repeated, "I. Won't. Do. It."

"He's nothing but a burden to you," the other persisted. "A hindrance to getting your job done. I told you before, he's not your problem. You wasted an entire day trying to cheer the pathetic creature up instead of hunting for Joseph Holland. I notice these things, detective. And I don't approve."

"So help me out. Tell me where to find Holland, because I'm at a dead end."

"Oh no, we don't play the game that way. Just mark my words, Mr. Stone. And do take my suggestion seriously. There might even be a little...bonus in it, if you were to rid the universe of this most revolting creature."

"Bonus? What kind of bonus?" Zeke asked.

Someone knocked at the door. Zeke was startled and looked at the door, wondering who it could be. By the time he turned back around, the fallen angel was gone, Zeke's question unanswered. He reached for his gun, steadying his hand as he checked the time--eight in the morning. The person outside knocked again, more insistently this time. Lucifer stirred in his bed, opened his eyes and looked anxiously at Ezekiel.

"This better be good," Zeke muttered under his breath. He held his gun behind his back as he cracked open the door with his other hand.

The manager of the boarding house peered through the crack at him. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Stone, but there's someone on the phone. Says he needs to talk to you, real urgent."

"Did he say who he was?"

"A priest, Father somethin' or other. Somethin' with a B... he was talkin' so fast I couldn't hardly understand him."

Zeke thought, and then the name came to him in a flash. "Brenner? Father Brenner?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"I'll be right down, keep him on the line." Zeke closed the door and dressed as fast as he could, feeling a mixture of dread and excitement.

"Who is it?" Lucifer asked.

"A priest from one the churches on Holland's list is on the phone. Stay here until I know what's going on."

Zeke took the elevator downstairs and grabbed the phone. "Father Brenner? This is Ezekiel Stone. Are you all right?"

"Detective Stone, I...I'm sorry if I woke you."

"It's okay, just tell me what's happened."

"I...the suspect in those other murders..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I may be paranoid, but I think I may have just seen him. At least, I was out on the street, walking to the church, when...a van passed me by on the street, a white van with no markings. It was moving very slowly. It passed me and stopped, briefly. A few seconds later it started moving again and drove away. It was...well, I felt quite unnerved about it." He laughed uneasily. "I know there are a million vans in the city, but that was the kind of vehicle the man who tried to abduct Father Stanton was driving, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I'm glad you called me about it. Where are you now?"

"In my office."

"I'm on my way, I'll be there in...twenty minutes. Stay there, but call 9-1-1 if anything else happens before I can get there."

  


## Chapter 9

  


Lucifer refused to stay behind. Father Brenner had calmed down by the time they arrived at his office and was rather eager to dismiss what had happened as mere paranoia on his part. "I hope I didn't drag you out here this morning for nothing, detectives."

"You never can be certain, Father," Zeke told him. Brenner, a tall, thin man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties, certainly fit the general profile of Holland's victims. "I'm glad you called me, whether it turns out to be for nothing, or not. My partner and I are going to keep an eye on things around here today, if that's all right. If that was the suspect this morning, he may come back."

"Yes, of course, that's fine." Brenner glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's almost time for morning confessions, if I may..."

Zeke nodded. "Go about your business as usual today. We'll stay close, but out of your way as much as possible."

"Thank you, gentlemen."

Stone and Lucifer followed Brenner out of his office, out through the narrow alley that separated the rectory from the church. While Brenner went on ahead, Zeke paused in the alley, taking a good look around. He looked up and noted that the rectory was a building four stories high, with a fire escape leading down into the alley. The alley itself seemed to be a dead end, with only an exit onto the street facing the front of both the rectory and the church.

"You seem quite certain it was Holland this morning," Lucifer observed while Zeke continued surveying their surroundings.

"He had to show up again sometime, and this church was on his 'list'. Even if I spooked him the other night, he's a man with a mission. He's not going to stop until his work is done...and that seems to be eliminating every priest in this city that reminds him of the one who abused him as a child."

"I like a man who sticks to his guns, finishes what he begins," Lucifer said with a small smile.

"Figures you would approve."

"I approve in theory, but not in practice. If Joseph Holland were in fact _alive_ and working his way, step by step, toward eternal damnation by killing these men, I'd be thoroughly pleased with his progress. The problem is, Ezekiel, he's dead. His soul is already _mine_ , and he should be in my kingdom, where he belongs--not traipsing about Earth still, thinking he's gotten the better of me."

Zeke was going to make a remark about Hell no longer being Lucifer's kingdom, but he thought better of it. Instead he simply shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Whatever." He had a feeling this was going to be a long day of sitting and waiting, potentially for nothing, and he didn't want to start in with it with Lucifer this early in the morning.

* * *

Hours passed, with Ezekiel and Lucifer trying to remain discreet as they shadowed Brenner through his daily schedule of morning and afternoon prayer services, confessions, and meetings. Ezekiel saw no signs of Holland, but he hadn't really expected the man to make his move--if he was going to--in the middle of the day. As evening approached, the former detective began to grow more alert, more on-guard for potential trouble. Lucifer merely grew more irritable and bored.

"I told you, you didn't have to come with me this morning," Zeke said after Lucifer let out an exceedingly loud yawn. "You could have stayed back at the hotel."

"Either way I'd be bored out of my head. Though maybe I wouldn't be so damn uncomfortable." With a sigh Lucifer got up from the pew he'd been trying to lay down on, and rolled his shoulders and neck to work out some kinks. He walked over to stand beside Ezekiel, who had taken a moment to light a candle for Marta Diamond, the woman who'd had the misfortune of living in Holland's former residence. Given that no one seemed to have noticed her disappearance, he doubted anyone else was saying a prayer for her.

"If Holland shows up, stay out of it, stay out of sight. I don't want to have to worry about you, on top of worrying about him," Zeke ordered.

"I can take care of myself," Lucifer insisted.

Zeke wasn't so certain, but he heard the defensive note in Lucifer's voice and didn't push the matter. "I still think you shouldn't have come along. You being here... it just bothers me."

"What do you mean, Ezekiel?"

Zeke shrugged. "The devil in the house of God. It somehow doesn't seem...right."

Lucifer chuckled softly. "But you forget, Ezekiel, I am _always_ here. Where there is light, there must be darkness. Even the brightest light must cast a shadow...and that is what I am, the shadow cast upon this world by His light." Lucifer held his hand before the candles, as if by example, his fingers casting long shadows upon the floor. "At least, that is what I used to be...but what am I now? Just another pathetic mortal human?" He laughed softly again. "First I am cast from Heaven because I refused to bow down before mortal man. Now I am transformed into one of the very creatures I despise...I suppose it is His final act of vengeance against me. I must give Him some credit for the idea--I could not have devised a more fitting revenge myself."

Zeke studied the fallen angel beside him, a thought forming in his mind as he reflected on Lucifer's words and recent events. "Have you considered the possibility that...maybe God isn't punishing you by taking away your powers, making you human? Maybe...I don't know...maybe this is actually some kind of...reward."

"A reward?"

"Yeah. For saving me, even when you knew you would have to pay a big price for interfering." The idea grew clearer in Ezekiel's mind as he spoke. "Maybe, I'm thinking, this could finally be your chance to get back into Heaven--as a mortal human, who has to live, and then die, and then be judged for your actions here on Earth."

Lucifer, for a moment, seemed to consider Ezekiel's idea seriously. But then he shook his head. "It's an interesting theory, Ezekiel, I'll give you that much. But He would never grant me the chance for redemption after my 'original sin'...just as He will never, not as long as I exist, no matter in what form, see me asking for His forgiveness. I have not changed my opinion on the proper place of man in this universe. I will never forgive Him for placing angels below mankind in His esteem. Never."

"Maybe being just 'a man' for a lifetime will give you a different outlook on things. I think you've already begun to care about mankind more than you want to admit--because then you'd have to admit that you'd been wrong about something. And I know how much you hate doing that."

Lucifer glared at Ezekiel, but before he had a chance to answer, both men turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Brenner. "Good evening, gentlemen. I just wanted to let you both know, my work is finished for the day. I was about to retire to prepare dinner--you both are welcome to join me."

"Thank you for the offer, Father, but we're fine."

"Will you be staying here to watch for this man all night?"

"If that isn't a problem. I have a feeling if our suspect is going to try anything, it will be during the night, or early morning-- it would fit the pattern of the other attacks, times when his victim was most likely alone." Stone paused; he'd had an idea earlier in the day about how he might be able to set a trap for Holland, and the time had come to see if Brenner would be up for putting it into action. "Father, there's an empty apartment in the rectory, isn't there?"

"Well, yes. I've been awaiting a new cleric since Father Mathews died, several months ago. Why?"

"I think you should stay in that empty room tonight, instead of your own apartment. It's an idea I have, to catch the killer, and hopefully keep you out of harm's way tonight..." Brenner and Lucifer both stepped closer as Ezekiel outlined his plan.

* * *

The voices never left him alone.

They were always whispering, crying, tormenting him--sometimes so loudly he couldn't think, couldn't do anything but scream in pain and wait for them to quiet down again. Most of the time, they were just _there_ , like an itch could never scratch, always reminding him of what he had done, of the sins he had committed.

/--why me why me why why why why--/

/--stop it please I don't want to no--/

/--I want to go home I want my mommy--/

/--stop it NO stop it stop it stop stop STOP--/

Always there, always, voices that would have driven a living man insane. But he was dead, and he couldn't go insane. God had made sure of that, because insanity would have been an escape from these eternally tormenting voices.

He knew it was God's fault. All of it. Ashur had explained it to him once, how wicked and cruel God was, and her words had made perfect sense to him. After all, it had been one of God's servants who had made his childhood miserable, who had taken away his innocence and taught him how to fear, how to hate, how to hurt. And it was God who had sent him to Hell to suffer for eternity, alone except for the cries of his victims.

Ashur Badaktu had been the first voice he'd heard, outside of his victims, for a time he would later learn had been nearly forty years. "I will take you with me," she'd promised, "and eventually I will make the voices go away. But you have to do one thing for me."

And when she explained what he'd have to do, he'd only been too happy to agree to it. She had a plan to destroy God's power on Earth, and he would help her by destroying those who spread His word. They deserved to die-- all of them. But he was only one man, so he would have to start out small, do it one by one. And he would choose those who were most like the one who had led him down this tormented path to begin with.

Joseph Holland stood on the street across from the church. Father Brenner was going to die tonight. He had almost grabbed him this morning off the street, but the priest had spotted his van, given it a suspicious glance, and Holland had known he had missed his window of opportunity. But he had to move swiftly, now. He couldn't wait too much longer. Soon he knew he should move on to another town anyway--there was too much talk about his work, now, in the media, too much suspicion and paranoia. And that damned servant of the devil now, too, trying to stop him.

/--Oh God, don't make me, I don't want to--/

/--I promise I won't tell, I promise--/

He would have to take his work elsewhere, keep moving. This might be his last victim here in San Francisco, he wasn't certain. It depended on how satisfactorily things went this evening. He'd like to be able to purge this city of every last one of these men, but he knew Ashur didn't care where he collected his victims. She just wanted dead priests; she didn't care about their age or race, or even what faith they happened to follow. If they spread the word of the One God, then they had to die. To her, it was as simple as that.

But it wasn't quite so simple to Joseph, so he would do things his own way. He liked to take his time with his victims, draw out the suffering for a few days at least. It wasn't as if Ashur was there, keeping track of his every victim. Last he'd heard, she was busy with her own work, burning churches, finding other ways to destroy God's faith.

/--please don't you're hurting me please stop--/

The voices were hushed now, just a soft buzz in the back of his brain. He hoped they would stay quiet until he finished this business with Father Brenner tonight. He didn't need the distraction. They had been too noisy, too bothersome the other morning when he'd tried to take down Stanton. Otherwise he wouldn't have botched the job, lost his van and had to go through the bother of stealing another vehicle. Between that, and then that damned soul hunter sneaking around his place, he was behind schedule. The need for vengeance was worse than ever, gnawing at him in the back of his brain.

He'd be more careful this time, he thought, reassuring himself that all was ready and just as it should be.

/--help me... help... help... --/

He leapt, his demonic strength giving him the extra boost he needed to reach the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder. He moved swiftly but as quietly as he could, trying not to make too much noise as he made his way up to the third floor of the rectory building. He knew exactly which window belonged to Brenner's bedroom, for he had seen the light on inside there previous evenings. It usually went on at seven, and went out at ten-thirty. Tonight had been no different from the priest's usual routine. He had waited a half-hour after seeing the lights go out to make sure the man was asleep before moving ahead with the plan.

He made it to the third floor; so far so good. He nearly laughed aloud when he looked at the window and saw that Brenner hadn't even closed it entirely. This was almost going to be too easy! Surprise the man, knock him unconscious, get him outside and back to the van as quietly as possible. Holland had it all planned out in his mind, saw each step in exact detail as he slid the window all the way up and carefully stepped inside.

In the dark, he could just barely make out Brenner's figure, lying in his bed. He approached quietly, clenching his fist, ready to strike a knock-out blow to the head, knowing he only had to be careful he didn't strike so hard that he killed Brenner before he got to have any fun with him. The man in the bed didn't even stir.

/--don't please don't hurt me please it hurts it hurts--/

He paused, suddenly getting the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. The man in the bed--

Ezekiel rolled over and flew at Holland just as the demon realized what was wrong. Holland shrieked in rage and the two demons fell to the ground, struggling.

"Your Get Out of Hell Free pass has been cancelled, Holland," Zeke hissed as he struggled to keep Joseph pinned to the ground while he got out his gun. "Time to go home."

"NO! I won't go, I can't go! They have to die first, all of them! And you as well!"

Holland's rage turned his grip--his entire body--burning hot. The heat burned Ezekiel's flesh; he was forced to loosen his grip and Holland rolled free, kicked Ezekiel and sent the detective flying across the room and into the wall. Zeke heard a crashing noise, watched as Holland burst through the door and started rushing down the stairs. Zeke followed after him as soon as he was physically able. He prayed that Brenner had followed his warning not to come out no matter what he heard happen tonight, not until Ezekiel or Lucifer told him it was safe. Lucifer was supposed to be waiting outside, in the car, ready to trail Holland should he make a run for it like he had the last time.

Zeke rushed down the stairs, gun in his hand, trying to catch up with Holland. This hunt was going to end tonight, one way or another, of that much Zeke was certain.

Stone burst into the alley, scanning quickly to see which way Holland gone: into the church, or out the alley to the main street. As he looked down the alley toward the street, he stopped cold, nearly falling as he halted his momentum so abruptly.

Holland hadn't gone very far. He stood there, halfway to the street, holding Lucifer in front of him like a shield. He held a knife to the devil's throat.

Zeke wanted to scream in frustration. What the hell was Lucifer doing here?! He was supposed to be waiting in the car, dammit. He was supposed to stay OUT of the confrontation.

"This one's with you, isn't he? Out here waiting, thinking you could trap me," Holland growled. "Another one of the devil's fucking servants, here to send me home? What if I send HIM back home to Hell, what would you say to that? Maybe you wouldn't care, maybe I should just fucking slit his throat." Lucifer's already panicked eyes widened and Zeke heard a whimper of fear as Holland pressed the blade closer against his throat. "Oh, but what was it Ashur told us all? Something about the eyes, watch your eyes. Do you want to watch me cut his eyes out of his head?"

"Let him go. He's not involved in this."

"I don't believe you. Now drop the gun, and stay back, or else this one here gets it."

When Ezekiel didn't immediately react, Holland screeched, "Drop it!" and raised the blade to point at the devil's left eye.

Zeke had no choice. He lowered his gun, let it slip to the ground. "Okay, Holland, let him go..." he urged gently.

"Not until I'm out of here," Joseph said, slowly walking backwards toward the street. "Don't move, I mean it!"

The seconds stretched on as Holland made his slow escape. Ezekiel stood dead still, afraid the slightest movement might set Holland off. He kept his eyes locked on Lucifer's. As furious as Ezekiel was at the devil for not sticking to the plan, at that moment he couldn't think about it. He had to concentrate on the immediate situation, to be ready to rush after Holland the instant he released Lucifer--or if Holland suddenly decided to not honor his end of the bargain.

They were almost at the street. Joseph was getting twitchy, still holding Lucifer tight but his blade wavered. Walking backwards, Joseph could not see where he was walking. His heel caught on a cracked section of pavement. He lost his balance briefly and his grip loosened as he instinctively panicked and tried to remain on his feet.

Lucifer reacted swiftly, slipping away from Holland's grasp as soon as it loosened. From that moment on Stone focused only on Holland. With inhuman speed he grabbed his gun and ran into the street after the fleeing demon, not about to let him escape this time.

Zeke's determination fueled his pursuit. He ran after Holland, down the street, around the corner and then into another alleyway. For a moment, Zeke panicked and stopped, remembering the last time he'd followed a demon blindly into an alley. He shook the memories off of him, and only took heed of the warning voice in his head that cautioned him to remain entirely alert, ready for anything. He started running again and finally overtook the fleeing demon, leaping at him, sending them both flying to the ground.

Joseph struggled to fight him off, kicking, lashing about, his flesh searing to the touch but Zeke refused to let go. The pain meant nothing, did not distract him, and neither did the ghostly whispers filling his ears, the sound of children crying and begging for mercy. As soon as he had Holland pinned beneath his body, he fired, the first shot missing but the second landing directly in his left eye. A third shot took out the right. Zeke flew backwards, knocked away by the force of Holland's soul bursting out of its shattered demonic vessel. Holland's screams filled Zeke's ears, as the light of his soul swirled about the air and then vanished, sucked down into the earth, down on its way back to Hell.

Pain seared Zeke's right arm. He pulled back his shirt sleeve to see which mark on his body was Holland's, to watch it dissolve away. Soon the tattoo was gone, as was the pain.

Zeke sighed, then got to his feet. One more down. Seventy-seven to go. He remembered Lucifer in the alley and started running back to the church, wanting to be certain both he and Father Brenner were all right.

  


## Chapter 10

  


Zeke found both Lucifer and Brenner inside the rectory. Zeke assured Brenner he wouldn't have to worry about any attempts on his life now, and skillfully tried to avoid getting any more specific than that as to what had happened to his potential assailant. Lucifer looked fine, but clearly he was shaken. Zeke didn't say anything about what had happened until they were in the car and driving back to their hotel.

Then he exploded.

"What the HELL were you doing in that alley! I told you to stay in the car."

"I thought I could help."

"By doing what, nearly getting yourself killed?"

Lucifer didn't answer at first. After a while he said, his voice much softer than usual, "I wanted to be useful. To do something of slightly more value than sit and wait in the fucking car."

They reached a stoplight, and Zeke turned to look at his companion. "This is my job, remember? Not yours. You want to help, then you tell me what you can about the rest of the demons I have to find. And then you let me do what I have to, which includes protecting you. Okay?"

Lucifer nodded. The light changed and Zeke continued driving. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

Back at the hotel, Lucifer barely took the time to kick off his shoes before collapsing on his bed. He wrapped himself up in the blankets like a cocoon, complaining about the cold air, that he was freezing.

Zeke didn't feel tired himself--at least, he didn't feel as if he could get any sleep at the moment. He was too wound up and wired from the night's confrontation. Instead he wanted a shower, a long one, to try to wash away the last remnants of Joseph Holland even if the demon's name no longer marked his skin.

He went to the bathroom and ran the water until it was steaming hot, far hotter than any human would be able to stand, but he embraced the heat. If only the scalding water could burn and wash away the remaining seventy-seven tattoos from his body, he thought.

Seventy-seven...so damn many of them. Zeke looked down at his arms and chest, at the intricate pattern of angelic script marking him as the devil's servant. There were a few bare spots where the tattoos were gone now, but so few, it seemed, and so many still there to be captured. He had come so close to failing so many times already; how could he hope to make it through seventy- seven more encounters? With the remaining ones banding together, and learning of _his_ mission to stop them...never mind his new duty, protecting the one who had orchestrated all of their torment for so very long...

Zeke tried not to think of the magnitude of his task like this, for inevitably it led to feelings of hopelessness and sorrow. He sunk to the floor of the shower stall, lost in his thoughts. The water pelted his body, his face, but he barely noticed it now, not until the hot water ran out and turned cold. The chilly water pounding his skin eventually startled him out of his brooding state of mind.

Standing, he finally turned the water off. 'I can't let it get to me,' he said to himself. 'You can do this. One day, one demon at a time.' The devil had chosen him for this mission out of all the billions of souls in his domain. Lucifer must have believed he could do it. Ezekiel just had to remind himself of that, and try to restore his own confidence that he could.

He dried off and put on his shorts, got ready for bed. Stepping out of the bathroom, he looked across the room at Lucifer's bed, and frowned. The pile of blankets the devil had buried himself under appeared to be shaking, and Zeke didn't think it was just because of the cold.

He'd been expecting this, actually, only wondered how long it would take until Lucifer cracked under the strain of recent events. Zeke had thought he'd enjoy seeing the devil suffer; now, he found he felt no joy, no satisfaction because of it. Ezekiel walked over to Lucifer's bed, and hesitated only a moment before he sat down on the edge of it, asking himself what he should do next--what he was willing to do. Lucifer was turned away from him, so he reached out and touched his shoulder, which was just barely peeking out of the top of the blankets. "Still cold?" Ezekiel asked.

After a brief pause, Lucifer answered, "Freezing."

Zeke lifted the blankets enough to slide under them, to rest beside the other man. Then he moved closer, slipping his arm around Lucifer's waist and lying close against his back. He felt Lucifer's body go stiff in response to the embrace. "Sometimes body heat works the best," Zeke explained.

Lucifer relaxed, slightly. He didn't say anything, he barely moved, but slowly Zeke felt him relax into his embrace. Then he started shaking again. Ezekiel held him tighter, waiting for him to be able to let it go and let the tears fall that he was obviously fighting back.

Eventually they came--hard and not quietly, but through desperate sobs that shattered the silence of the still, early morning hours.

None of it felt real to Ezekiel, even though he knew he wasn't dreaming. But how did he wrap his brain around this? He was lying in bed, nearly naked, with the devil in his arms...and he _wanted_ to be there, he wanted to help. He had seen the terror in Lucifer's eyes that night, when he had been mere seconds away from losing his suddenly mortal life. And he had seen Lucifer's love for him--he was here, still on Earth instead of back in Hell, because of that love. How could he turn his back on Lucifer now? He couldn't; it wasn't in his nature, no matter who Lucifer was, or had been, or had done in the past.

The torrent of tears passed almost as quickly as they had begun. The shuddering of his body slowed and Lucifer's breathing gradually returned to a more normal, steady pace. Eventually he let out a deep sigh, and quietly said, "Thank you."

"It's okay," Zeke answered, his tone of voice equally soft. He didn't move away, though. In truth, he hadn't held someone-- anyone--close like this since before his death, over fifteen years ago, and he'd almost forgotten how soothing it could feel.

Lucifer found and gripped Zeke's arm, holding it tight, like a lifeline. "Tonight I learned what mortality really means, Ezekiel. To know that one day, you will die- -that in fact you could die at any moment, any second. I've never felt so...helpless. I'm still...scared. Terrified, to be honest."

"I know."

"Yes, yes, you know, but you can't understand! Not what it's like to go from what I was, to _this_. Even if I tried to explain it to you, you could never comprehend." Lucifer drew in a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, one last shudder passing through him.

They fell silent, then, for some time. Lucifer's grip on Zeke's arm lessened, but his hand remained there, letting Zeke know he still needed him close. "When they caught you," Lucifer began, "I knew you had no chance. I hadn't realized what was going on, that they planned to trap you, otherwise I would have warned you. I would have at least done that much, Ezekiel. But it was too late."

Zeke said nothing, just listened, letting the devil say what he had to say. "I tried not to care. After all, I could simply choose another to finish your task. I tried to ignore what they were doing to you, but I couldn't. Every minute...every second that passed it was getting worse, knowing that I couldn't help you because it was not _allowed_

"Finally I couldn't take it any longer. I was mad with rage, with this...this _impotence_ forced upon our kind by His rules while you suffered more than you ever had deserved. In the end I didn't care what He did to me for it. I had to stop them." Lucifer's voice, which had been rising as he told him story, dropped down once more as he finished, "Still, I didn't expect this."

"If you'd known what would happen...would you still have done it? Or would you have left me there?"

The devil fell silent. "I think...I think I still would have stopped them," he finally answered. "I told you before I was a fool. I suppose my brother is right; I have gone 'soft'." He chucked softly. "Well, Ezekiel, how does it feel to know you've brought down the devil? It must give you some sort of satisfaction after the way I've treated you."

"Actually, it doesn't. I've never found other people's misery something to celebrate."

"No, you haven't, have you? I always thought that was one of your faults."

Nothing else was said for some time. "Ezekiel?"

"Yeah?"

"It's come to my attention that you're rather... well, almost naked."

"You're just noticing this?"

"I had other things on my mind before."

"You want me to get dressed?"

"I want..." Lucifer paused, and finally turned to face Ezekiel. His eyes met Zeke's, revealing uncertainty, and his love. "I want something that I don't think you could ever give me," he said with a sad smile that got to Ezekiel more than he wanted to admit.

Zeke was in turmoil, inside. He _shouldn't_ be able to give Lucifer what he wanted, to return his love. Not after fifteen years of Hell. Not after the sick games the devil had played with Zeke's soul, the way he'd toyed with Zeke's feelings, taunting him about his wife. No, he shouldn't be able to return the devil's love. He didn't.

But he did feel...something, and he realized that something was far from hatred. He didn't want to analyze his feelings too closely, not yet, not now. But there was certainly sympathy there, and protectiveness, and a growing sense of...friendship, of a kind, and maybe something a little bit more than that.

Zeke reached up, with one hand, to touch the other man's face. He studied it with his eyes, and with that hand, touching the striking features that had once been mere illusion and now were truly sculpted of human flesh and bone. Those features somehow still seemed unreal, somehow inhuman, on that face etched by centuries of emotions, eyes that had seen unimaginable things, both tremendous and terrible. Zeke pulled his attention back from the details and noted that expression on Lucifer's face was now one of confusion, surprise...and perhaps, a small glimmer of hope.

Before he could think better of what he felt compelled to do, Zeke leaned in close enough to meet Lucifer's mouth for a kiss--brief, light, little more than the slight touch of their lips. Zeke pulled back before it could deepen, feeling as if his heart should be racing, except that he had no pulse, no heartbeat that could quicken. Still, something pulsed inside him, whatever energy or force that gave his body the illusion of life. Yet Zeke was frozen by indecision and sudden fear. He knew he could still pull away completely, let the moment pass. He could go to his own bed and sleep, forget this had ever happened, or at least try to.

Or he could give in, and give Lucifer at least some of what he wanted--Zeke's comfort, if not his love. It was, Ezekiel had to admit, what he also wanted, at least some part of him that had known no comfort for far too long. To be held, kissed...loved by someone who understood. And no one, perhaps, could understand Ezekiel better now than the devil.

Zeke didn't take long to make his decision, not under the unblinking, expectant gaze of the other man's eyes. He leaned back in to kiss Lucifer again, this time lingering, allowing himself to really feel it. Lucifer responded, cautiously at first, as if he too could not really believe this was happening. Zeke silenced his own remaining doubts as he reveled in the feeling of human contact. Lucifer's lips parted and Zeke ran his tongue over them, tasting and exploring. Lucifer tasted like cool, fresh water to him, water that quenched a thirst that went down to Ezekiel's soul. The more he tasted, the more he wanted. The energy pulsing inside of him grew, spreading, and he could feel himself getting hard already.

Lucifer moaned against his mouth as Zeke's touch became more intense, his kisses harder. Zeke slipped his fingers into the other man's hair, caressing the long silky strands that were so inviting to the touch. He would save worrying about why this felt so good, so right, for later. Much later. He needed this, wanted it more with every second. The devil's hands were all over his body, stroking his sides, his back, his stomach. Their touch was so warm. So _alive_! Zeke ached for that, to feel the warmth of someone who was living--not a pretender like himself, a dead man inhabiting flesh that no longer truly belonged to him. He tugged Lucifer's shirt free from his pants and slipped one hand inside, stroking the other man's warm, flat and smooth stomach. Lucifer shuddered at this touch, breaking their kiss to catch his breath.

Zeke kissed his throat, licked and savored the taste of salt and sweat. Human tastes, so human. He'd missed that...why hadn't he noticed their absence, when he'd kissed Ash? Had he been so blinded by desire and her disguises to see the truth, to feel what was missing? Lucifer moaned as Zeke teased the sensitive skin with his teeth and tongue, and yes, Zeke had to admit to some dark thrill to it, knowing this was the devil he was with, the devil who he could make moan with need. He moved lower, pushing the shirt up over Lucifer's head, kissing, tasting, then circling one dark, erect nipple with his tongue. He bit it playfully; Lucifer yelped in surprise. Zeke laughed and teased more gently, then eventually moved back to Lucifer's mouth, hungry for another taste.

After a time, Lucifer had enough and urged Zeke onto his back, forcing him down against the mattress with a demanding kiss and the weight of his body. The devil sat up, straddled Ezekiel's hips and looked down at him with eyes no longer revealing any confusion, only passion. His gaze followed his hands as they ran over Stone's chest and stomach, a wicked smile crossing his lips. "You know, Ezekiel, I could have taken you, at any time. I wanted to, I came so close so many times to just having my way with you. But this, _this_ is what I really wanted. For you to want me, to come to me without force, of your own free will..."

Zeke arched under his touch as Lucifer's fingers brushed against his nipples, then slowly trailed down to his belly, and settled over his cock, rubbing it through the thin fabric of Zeke's shorts. Zeke arched as much as he could into that touch, wanting it, wanting more. "You do want me, don't you?" Lucifer asked, even though the answer had to be quite obvious.

"Yes..." The light teasing touch of those fingers was not nearly enough. There was no arguing why he wanted this now; there was only the warmth of Lucifer's hands, the wet heat of his mouth against Zeke's lips, throat, and chest. He pulled at the devil's pants, wanting to be rid of the clothes that kept that body from touching his own. Lucifer took the hint and sat up enough to strip entirely and take similar care of Zeke.

Then Lucifer was on top of him, kissing him again as their bodies were at last free of all clothes, all barriers. In time, the heat between them grew almost too much to bear-- with every movement, pleasure shot through Stone's body as his penis rubbed against Lucifer's sweaty skin. His self control was slipping fast, especially when Lucifer slid down the bed and took Zeke's erection in his mouth. He tried to hold out, but soon he was thrusting up to meet those wet lips, desperate for more, for release. "Oh, God!" he cried before he could stop himself as he came, trembling and bucking under the devil's touch. His inhuman body released no semen or other fluid, no physical residue of his pleasure, but inside, the energy that filled him was humming. It wasn't the same as when he'd been alive, but it was as good as he'd felt since he'd died, and that was nothing to complain about. Pleasure and relief washed over his body, and Lucifer slid back up against him, a smug smile on his face.

"Seems I haven't lost _all_ of my many talents, eh, Ezekiel?"

"Horny devil..."

"Oh please, as if I haven't heard that one before."

"Yeah, but it's true enough, isn't it?" Zeke ran his hand over the other man's still-hard

erection. Lucifer squirmed as Zeke stroked it, slowly, watching and enjoying the way Lucifer responded to him. The devil shuddered and sighed, making enticing, small noises of pleasure. Zeke rubbed his thumb over the damp head, circling it, then eventually went back to long strokes, harder this time, as he also leaned in to kiss the man's neck.

"Ezekiel...oh, yes...!" Lucifer clung to him, fingers of one hand digging into Zeke's back, nails clawing at him as he kept at it, not stopping until Lucifer cried out his name again and his whole body spasmed. Zeke kept stroking his cock, until the warm, slippery fluid that coated his hand began to cool and grow sticky.

Lucifer curled in to Zeke's embrace, kissing him hard again, hard until the heat between them finally began to fade. Then the devil rested his head against Zeke's chest and sighed; he seemed to have gone completely slack and boneless, in the aftermath of his own release. Zeke was convinced that he'd fallen asleep, until he finally spoke up and proclaimed, "Well, that was... different."

"Different?" Zeke repeated, not sure he would describe what had just happened as merely "different".

"As a human. And with someone...who actually meant something," the devil explained awkwardly. "Everything's so damned different now."

"Give it time," Ezekiel answered.

"I don't _want_ to give it time! I want to be myself again." He raised his head and met Zeke's eyes, fire burning in his own. "I want to show you how I could have made love you before, Ezekiel. The things I could have made you feel...the things we could have shared..." He shook his head. "You have no idea what it could have been like."

"Maybe, someday, you'll get the chance to show me." Lucifer didn't appear at all convinced. "Look, you don't know you'll be stuck like this forever; you've got to be optimistic about things."

"Optimism? Been there, done that, look where it got me." The devil settled back against Zeke and yawned.

"Tired?" Zeke asked.

" _Dead_ tired."

"Then get some sleep." Zeke brushed his hand gently through Lucifer's hair.

"Ezekiel?"

"Yeah?"

"Just...thank you."

Silence fell over the room, though outside the city was just beginning to awaken, the sounds of early morning activity starting to creep in through the window.

Lucifer was asleep in minutes, his breath falling steady and warm against Zeke's chest. Zeke also felt amazingly lethargic all of a sudden and ready to steal a few hours rest. Soon enough there would be another demon to hunt down. Sooner than he no doubt would want to, he'd have to deal with Ash. And as soon as he woke up, later in the day, he'd have to deal with what he'd started here tonight. For the moment, however, he was going to forget about these things. He was going to do the one thing he hadn't done in years, something he'd never thought he'd do again.

He was going drift asleep in the arms of someone who loved him.

  
 _End_


End file.
